You Can't Ask This Of Me
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Sequel to "You Can't Imagine." Mark/Lexie, as they try to fit all the pieces back together and move on.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: T, with a small slice of M

Author's Note: Hi, guys! I'm officially back with a (sort of) new story. If you've read _You Can't Imagine, _I hope you'll be pleased to know that this is the sequel. Before I dive into this, I should let you all know that it is a real work-in-progress (including the title, which I am completely at a loss for—the current one is hopefully only temporary until I think of a replacement). Therefore, please keep in mind while you read and wait for updates, that I'm still writing much of the story and figuring out where it will go in each chapter. I know it may be hard to 'enjoy' a fic on the subject this one is written on, but I hope you all will at least like it, in some way or another.

This story begins a few days after Lexie's miscarriage. The small, italicized section near the end is a flashback to pre-miscarriage Mark and Lexie.

Quick Note: Samantha (Leigh), I know you've been waiting for this. Hopefully it lives up to your expectations.

_._

_Early April_

_._

"Um... Dr.—Dr. Sloan?"

"What?" He snaps, his eyes flicking to his left where the voice came from. He pauses, pressing his lips together in disapproval when he sees eight mini-doctors facing him. He looks back to his charts, sighing in exasperation. It's barely eight in the morning and his temper is already too short. "What do you want?"

"We, um, we wanted t—to say—"

"Is there anyone else here that can speak without a stutter?" He asks the group of young interns while focusing his glaring gaze at the young man who was just speaking.

"We wanted to say we were sorry," the intern replies.

"For wasting my time? Thank you, but if you hadn't spoken in the first place we wouldn't have to have this conversation."

"N—No, we, we meant—"

"Again," Mark mutters in blatant boredom, "can _any_ of you speak without giving me the impression that you need to see a speech therapist?"

"We're sorry about the baby, Dr. Sloan," one of the girls whispers. Mark's breath catches at the mention, and when he attempts to compose himself by inhaling smoothly, the air can barely pass through to his lungs.

"Excuse me?" He manages a second later, not quite believing he heard her right…And not even wanting to come to terms with the idea that they all somehow thought it was okay to speak to him about this in the middle of a workday.

The girl falters under his direct gaze. "W—We know Dr. Grey and you—Well, we, we know Dr. Grey and we—"

"We're just sorry, is all," another girl cuts in. "I can't even begin to imagine what it must've been like..." She trails off nervously, staring at the attending surgeon and waiting for him to snap. Surprisingly, he doesn't. "Well, we just wanted to say we were sorry, and if—if Lexie needs anything—"

"I'll tell her," Mark replies, unable to hide the rush of relief and gratitude that floods into his voice. _They'll help her. _He feels himself almost smile at the thought, knowing how easily this situation could've turned sour. _They could've rejected her as a pariah, but no…_

"We can catch her up when she gets back, too," a guy pipes up from the back.

"I'll tell her," Mark repeats, managing a somewhat friendly tone.

The interns nod, looking around and obviously waiting to be dismissed. Mark sighs to himself, closing his eyes and wondering when some of these schoolchildren are going to grow up. When he opens them, one of the interns is standing a foot closer than the others. He stares down at her, waiting until she speaks. "We—we really are very sorry, Dr. Sloan. If there's anything we can do…"

Mark closes his eyes for a second and the girl's offer peters out. "Thank you for your concern. I will pass all of this along to Dr. Grey." He opens his eyes, staring at them all for a quite moment. "You should know that I really do appreciate all your offers to help her."

.

"Hey," Mark calls, opening the front door to their apartment. "Lex?"

Mark finds her on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. He sits down beside her, pulling her easily into his arms. She rests her head back against his chest, tilting her head to kiss his neck softly. "How was work?"

"Okay," Mark replies. Lexie can hear the tiredness spilling out of his voice; she really wished he hadn't gone in today. Just like she wished he wouldn't go in every day since they'd lost him. "How was today?"

Lexie shrugs, not really knowing what to say. "All right."

Mark nods, deciding not to push the subject if she doesn't want to talk to him. "Your intern friends say hello," he informs her, changing the subject. Lexie turns to look at him, surprised.

"They do?"

Mark nods. "Yeah. They were wondering when you were…coming back. They wanted to say hi."

"And what did you say?" Lexie asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I said I wasn't sure," he replies truthfully. "I didn't really know what to tell them."

Lexie nods. "What else did they say?" She asks after a couple minutes, knowing there must be more to this story.

"They offered to catch you up when you got back," Mark relays. "And they…" He looks down. "They said they were…very sorry." His voice is barely audible as he tries to speak. "For our loss."

"They…said that?" Lexie whispers, beyond shocked. "T—To you? Today?"

Mark nods. "Yeah. They all came to me in a big group." He looks away, taking a breath.

"I'm sorry they did that to you," Lexie whispers.

Mark shakes his head. "No, it's okay. It was…" He takes a quiet breath, looking back over to his girlfriend. "It was actually really reassuring to know there are people at work who will be looking out for you when you get back."

Lexie nods, feeling tears leak out of her eyes. They both know what he isn't saying: _I need people to watch out for you when I can't. _It takes both of them no time at all to remember the last time he wasn't around to protect her.

But Mark doesn't say anything, opting instead to hold her tighter when he realizes she's sobbing silently. He rests his chin above her head, letting her body fall back into his. He hopes his presence is enough to help her, to be of some comfort to her, though he highly doubts that he's alleviating her pain. But he can't think of anything else to do except hold her as she cries.

Mark Sloan had never felt more useless.

_._

_Late April_

.

"Mark," Lexie whispers.

"Hm?" He murmurs, turning towards her out of habit. Though he's half-asleep, the sight of her tearstained face jolts him awake. "Oh, Lex..." He sighs quietly, shifting closer to her in bed.

"He was our baby," Lexie whispers, her voice broken and eyes swollen. "He was our baby and now he's gone."

"Come here," Mark murmurs, feeling his throat tighten as he reaches out and draws her close. "Come here, sweetheart."

"He's gone," she sobs into his chest. "He'll never be here. He's gone."

"Shh," Mark whispers, resting his chin above her head and feeling grateful that she can't see his tears. "Sh, love, you'll—" He squeezes his eyes tight, pretending he can't feel the tears leaking out of his eyes. "You'll be alright."

"I miss him," Lexie chokes out. Her strangled voice only brings more tears to Mark's eyes, and he holds her body tight against his, curling towards her as if doing so might afford her some protection.

"I miss him too," Mark manages a minute later. "More than I thought possible."

"I'm... I'm sorry I lost your son," Lexie cries. "I'm so sorry."

Mark pulls back, and despite the ruddy quality of his eyes and the tears streaming down his face, he looks his girlfriend on the eye. "Don't you ever apologize for that," he tells her, his words coming out much harsher than he'd intended. "Don't ever apologize for our baby."

"But I lost—"

"It was _not _your fault," Mark replies forcefully. "I don't ever want you to blame yourself for what happened again."

"Mark..."

"I'm serious, Lexie. I don't want to hear you say that again. Ever."

She pauses, gathering her breath. He looks down at her silence, immediately guilty for having used such a sharp tone with her, especially now. "I'm sorry," he whispers, staring at the sheets beneath them. "I'm so sorry this happened," he continues a second later, his voice a low murmur. "And to you, of all people. You never deserved…" He trails off, his voice drowning out as tears fall from his eyes.

"Oh, Mark," she whispers, her voice breaking as she catches sight of him. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I thought you—" She breaks off, not even sure of her thoughts anymore. _I thought you were okay._

"You shouldn't have to see this," he mutters, roughly swiping at his cheeks and scrubbing his red eyes with his palms. She reaches up tentatively to remove his hands from his eyes. Her hands are shaking, but she ignores that, hoping he will, too.

"Let me see, please," she whispers. His eyes flicker to hers for just a second before resting, dead, as they stare downward. She takes in his bloodshot eyes, the bags underneath, and the tears still lurking in his lids. "Oh, honey…"

_How long has he been hiding this from me?_ She wonders, feeling her throat constrict. _How long has he held back his own tears because he's had to deal with me and mine?_

"I miss him too," Mark chokes out finally. His voice is gravelly and thick with probably just as many tears as she's shed today. "I miss him and I can't stop—can't stop…" His voice lowers; so quiet that she's half-certain he's done speaking. "I can't stop blaming myself," he finishes in a trembling voice.

His words twist at her heart, and it's a couple seconds before Lexie can even begin to formulate a reply.

"You… You blame _yourself_?" She asks incredulously. He meets her eyes, and nods sadly. The gesture is full of shame and guilt. "Mark, _why?_" She asks, unable to stop vocalizing her thoughts. "That's insane. Why would it be your fault? It isn't your fault."

"Of course it's my fault," he replies automatically. He takes a moment to attempt to compose himself. "I… I was supposed to be there," he begins. "I was supposed to protect you. He was my son, and I…" His lips tremble, and she watches, frozen and heartbroken, as wet tears cascade down his cheeks. "I should have been there. For him and—and for you." He tries to take a breath, and she watches as it catches in his throat. "I should have taken care of you like I was supposed to, Lexie. You were the mother of my son and I—I should have taken care of you. I should have made sure nothing happened to you, I—"

"Mark," Lexie manages to choke out, "you couldn't have protected me from this."

"I should have at least _tried_," he spits out in self-loathing.

"Mark," she whispers, forcing herself to breathe. "Mark, you could never have protected me from what happened. This wasn't something you could have prevented or something you could fix after the fact." She stares at him, placing her hand on his neck. His skin is warm, and slightly rough underneath her touch. He didn't shave this morning, and she wonders what other daily rituals he's simply given up on, overpowered by the grief. "You were there for me," she reminds him. "You were there for me when I lost him, and Mark if you weren't—" She breaks off, ducking her head and trying to keep her thoughts straight against the onslaught of agonizing memories invading her mind. "If you weren't," she continues after a moment, "I would not have been able to get through it. If you weren't there, I would never have lived through that." She stares at him, feeling her eyes prick. The tears balance in her eyelids, poised to fall the moment she can no longer hold them in. "You saved my life, Mark," she finishes in a scratchy half-whisper.

The tears fall.

He crushes her body to his.

"I love you so much," he whispers—cries, really—into her ear.

Her arms wrap around his back, and her fingers clutch onto his shoulders like they're handholds. "I love you back," she murmurs into his neck. "Just as much." She clutches him close, and if it were anyone else, she'd be worried that her tight grip was hurting him.

But he isn't anyone else.

He's Mark, and more than anything, she knows that he needs to know she's there. He doesn't need a soft touch or a gentle word, he needs to physically _feel_ that someone is there for him. He needs to know that there's someone to support him, even when he can't or won't ask for such things.

So she hugs him tight, presses a kiss into the side of his neck, and lets him take care of her instead.

_Maybe_, she thinks hopefully, _if I let him take care of me, he'll let me take care of him._

Maybe.

_._

_Early May_

_._

"How are you?"

Mark Sloan sighs under his breath, taking his time to turn his head and look over at his best friend. He stares at the neurosurgeon while gathering enough strength to formulate a response. Eventually, he says nothing more than he ever does: "I'm fine, Derek."

"Mark," Derek mutters, drawing out his best friend's name. From his tone, Mark knows the neurosurgeon is less-than-pleased with his repetitive and meaningless response. But right now, he couldn't give a shit about Derek's opinion, not even if his life depended on it. He can't give a shit about anything these days, it seems.

"What?" Mark snaps, fire automatically lighting up his eyes and harshening his words. "What do you want?"

Derek sighs softly. "You're my best friend," he replies quietly, immediately backing down at his friend's anger. He leans forward, as if hoping closer proximity might make the other man confide in him. "And I want to know how you are."

"I said I was fine, or didn't you hear?" Mark replies coldly. He stiffens when Derek leans even closer towards him.

"It's been two months," he states softly. "And you haven't talked to me."

Mark levels his childhood friend with a gaze so chilling its been known to scare off even the most confident of medical professionals. Unfortunately, it does nothing to deter the accomplished neurosurgeon. "And what, exactly, are you waiting for me to say?"

"Anything," Derek replies, holding his friend's gaze. When he realizes that he isn't getting through, he shrugs weakly, a slight smile on his face. "Just let me know you're alive in there," he half-jokes.

Mark stares at his best friend for a long minute without expression. When he finally speaks, his words are cold and detached. "I'm not."

The plastic surgeon turns away and is halfway down the hall before the other man even has a chance to process his chilling words.

_._

_Early June_

.

"Dr. Grey, hello."

Lexie forces a smile, holding tight on the back of the chair in front of her as she stands in the Chief of Surgery's office. Her foot is itching to tap out a nervous beat on the carpeted floor, but she holds herself in check. _Be professional, _she reminds herself. "What is this about?" She wonders, trying to stay as polite as possible. She hopes he can't hear the fear in her voice. _You can't fire me. Please don't fire me, _she thinks desperately.

"If you'd like to have a seat…" Richard Webber takes his own, gesturing with a hand to the piece of furniture Lexie is currently white-knuckling. She debates replying that she'd rather stand, but Richard holds his hand up until she follows his suggestion. Her limbs feel large and sluggish as she moves; her hands are numb from clutching the back of the chair so tight.

"I wanted to give you some time to settle back in before I called on you…"

Lexie nods warily, still wondering what this meeting is supposed to be about. Ever since Dr. Bailey pulled her aside early this morning to inform her that the Chief of Surgery wanted to meet with her privately, she's had periodic panic attacks that she'll be losing her job. Only one thought buoyed her spirits through the torturously long morning: _I can always pull the grieving mother card. _She remembers it now, and almost smiles at her upper hand._ Dr. Webber wouldn't fire me if I cried in his office, would he? I've just had a rough couple of weeks. He'd never be so cold-hearted. Not now._

But two things stopped her from going through with that plan. One was that she knew she would never be able to cry in front of Dr. Webber. At least not willingly. And not just him, but anyone in the hospital. The mere fact that her coworkers were cognizant of what had happened last April was enough. She was gossiped about, she knew. She was whispered about behind hands and in the lunch line. They all knew too much about her personal life already—there was no way she was letting them see her personal feelings, too. And if she showed Dr. Webber, who knew how many people might know by the end of the day?

The second reason was much simpler. While it took Lexie a few hours to realize that her plan would never come to fruition for that first reason, the obvious flaw in her plan didn't hit her until she was sitting in Dr. Webber's office—and it's there that it hits her like a ton of bricks.

_I am not a mother._

"Dr. Grey, I called you in here because I wanted to offer my…"

_I am not a mother._

She can't even hear Dr. Webber's strained and awkward apology over the scream of her own thoughts—of that one, poisonous thought. _I am not a mother._ She feels her face twitch and her body shake.

"…As I'm sure Dr. Sloan communicated to you, it was a hard time for him as well. We…"

Lexie can hear the sound of her eyelids open and close as she blinks. She stares at the older man in front of her, watching his mouth move, but she can't understand a word he's saying. He might as well be speaking in Chinese, a language she barely knows how to say 'hello' in. But every few seconds, she hears that familiar name.

_Dr. Sloan._

She tries to hold onto it as the blood pounds beneath her skin and her breaths seem to come in and out in loud pants. It's only when she hears her name repeated several times that she begins to come back to herself.

"Dr. Grey?" Dr. Webber asks for what must be the tenth time.

Lexie looks up, raising her head ever so slowly. The effort it takes to lift her eyes in incredible. She blinks a few times, feeling a tickling sensation spread from her eyes down her cheeks. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion, and she opens her mouth to question this odd phenomenon. But she can't speak. She can't see, either—everything is blurry and cloudy. The various shapes and colors that make up the Chief of Surgery's face are starting to blend together, much like his words had been doing moments ago. But she blinks, and everything becomes clear. Her vision returns, and a moment later, when her blood stops pounding in her ears, so does her hearing. She tilts her head up, finding Dr. Webber staring at her with a look of extreme sadness and discomfort.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, reaching for a box of tissues on the side of his desk. He offers them to her. "I guess it was too early to mention."

Lexie expands her lungs to take a breath, surprised at the effort the action requires. "No," she manages to croak a few seconds later. "It's—"

"Dr. Grey." His voice is gentle, but stern. It demands the truth.

"It's—It's—" Lexie breaks off, unable to speak as her chin trembles and her whole body begins to shake. "It's—" _Fine, _she tries to say, but she can't voice the word. She can't lie to yet another person. She feels her eyes spill over again, and as her whole body goes numb, she vaguely registers Dr. Webber picking up his phone and speaking rapidly into it. She could swear she heard her boyfriend's name, but that might've been only wishful thinking.

Not even two minutes later, though, are her wishes are proven to be correct.

Lexie's head whips around when she hears the door to Dr. Webber's office _bang _open. It hits the opposite wall, but neither the visitor nor the Chief of Surgery seems to care. The attending surgeon shares a few terse words with his superior, but their voices are too low and far away—and her mind is too clouded and confused—for Lexie to make any sense of what they're saying. And before she can open her mouth to try and speak, to ask what they're saying, he's by her side, kneeling in front of her chair. He's murmuring to Dr. Webber as he gently wipes away her tears in a few practiced and overused strokes of his thumbs, but Lexie can't make out those words either. Only one thought dominates her brain, the one that had been poisoning her mind since its very inception.

_I am not a mother._

"Mark," she whispers brokenly. Her voice cracks through the silence in the room like a fist through glass. "Mark."

The plastic surgeon forces a smile, cupping her face with his hands. "Yeah, baby?" He whispers, staring up at her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She reaches up, encasing his wrists in her fingers, manacling him to her. "I'm not a mother, Mark." She watches his face twist in sympathy for a split-second before continuing, feeling the need to explain. "I—I thought Dr. Webber was going to fire me, and I—I was going to defend myself by saying that I was a grieving mother, and that's—that's why I… That's why I haven't been doing so well…"

His eyes fall closed. "Oh, sweetheart…"

"But I'm _not _a mother, Mark. I'm _not_—" She breaks off, swallowing and attempting to rein in her emotions. While she does so, Mark moves closer to her, crouching nearer to her chair.

"You wanna go home?" He asks softly.

She shakes her head.

He gives her a small smile, reaching up to stroke her face. He pushes some of her hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. "You've done _so_ well," he whispers. "These past few weeks… You've done really well, baby."

She nods dumbly, finding herself incapable of coherent speech. "I… I…"

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to. I can take you home," he suggests quietly.

"No, I…" She finally finds her voice. It's cracked and dry, as if she'd been dying of thirst for days. "I can't," she struggles to say. "I can't leave."

He closes his eyes, moving closer to her. "Lex," he whispers. "Of course you can."

"My—My shift's not over. My job—"

"Richard won't fire you," Mark replies resolutely. Lexie watches as his eyes leave her face for a second—looking somewhere over her shoulder. A moment later, Dr. Webber rushes to affirm his employee's statement. "See?" Mark asks quietly, turning back to his girlfriend. "It's okay. You don't need to be here right now. I can take you home if you can't handle it."

"I can handle it," Lexie snaps in reply, her eyes flashing. Her voice is sharp and scathing, and he immediately regrets trying to coddle her. "I can handle it," she repeats a moment later, her voice a bit softer, yet still just as determined. Mark nods, understanding.

"I know," he replies, shifting his weight back onto his heels and removing his hands from her face. "I know you can."

"I just…" Lexie sighs, closing her eyes. She wipes her face when a few leftover tears leak out. She takes a breath before opening her eyes. When she does so, she doesn't look to her boyfriend. Instead, she turns in her chair, seeking out her boss. He stares back at her with a mixture of pity and sorrow on his kind, aged face. "Dr. Webber, I understand that you were trying to offer your sympathies, and I thank you for that. It's just that I… I don't want them."

The older man sighs, stepping forward. "Dr. Grey…"

"I'm serious," she replies, her voice surprisingly stern despite the fact that she's speaking with the head of the hospital. "Coming into work—coming back, after—after what happened here—has already been hard enough. Seeing all the pitying looks from every person on the surgical staff is hard enough. Remembering everyday what happened in that exam room is hard enough." She looks at him with a plea shining in her eyes. "Please," she says softly, "please don't remind me again. I know you meant well. And I—both Mark and I—we really appreciate it. But we just—we just don't _need _it, Dr. Webber. We really don't."

The Chief of Surgery nods slowly, taking a few steps around the room to resume his seat behind his desk. He stares at his two employees before him in turn, taking a few moments to settle on each of their faces as they sit in identical chairs before him. "I understand," he replies finally. Lexie breathes a sigh of relief as Mark closes his eyes briefly in thanks. "But," he qualifies a moment later, meeting both pairs of worried eyes. "Will you at least let me say my piece before I promise not to bring it up again? Just so I feel like I've properly paid my respects?"

Lexie looks to her boyfriend for a moment, and after seeing the look in his eyes, she reluctantly nods, allowing Dr. Webber to speak.

"I would first like to say how incredibly sorry I am to the both of you," he begins softly. "Personally, I have never experienced a loss like this, but I'm sure it is one of the most painful tragedies one can endure." Mark and Lexie both nod, looking down. Richard pauses, watching as the plastic surgeon reaches out, taking his girlfriend's hand in his. He gives in a quick squeeze, and when Richard sees the intern's knuckles go white for a brief second, he knows she returned the gesture. Their hands don't break as he continues. "I can sympathize with what both of you are feeling, but unfortunately I am unable to empathize completely. If you should ever need help, though, I would like you both to know that there is a virtual army of psychiatrists, psychologists, and grief specialists in this hospital, any one of which you should feel free to visit. Please forward their fee to me."

"Richard," Mark cuts in, his blue eyes wide with shock. "There's no reason to—"

"Dr. Sloan, I am well aware of how much money you make." He stares hard at one of his most profitable employees. "I am offering these services to you—and to Dr. Grey—as a personal favor. And I ask that you please take advantage, even if you think it may seem unnecessary.

"Now…" He pauses, taking the moment to look both of them in the eye. "If either of you need time—and I mean any kind of time, any kind of leave—_tell me_. Do not hesitate to give yourself a break when things get too hard." He glances to Mark. "I've sent you home before Dr. Sloan, and I can do it again." Mark glances away, but from the way his eyes flickered back to Richard's, both knew he got the message. "And you, Dr. Grey," he continues, turning to the young intern. He takes a slow breath, folding his hands together. "I can somewhat understand Dr. Sloan's point of view here, but with you, Dr. Grey, I regret to say that I am completely at a loss. I cannot even begin to imagine what this is like for you, how difficult it must be." He gives her a weary smile. "I'm sure some days it's just hard enough getting up in the morning, let alone going into work—especially at a job like this." Lexie nods shallowly. "Especially at a hospital like this," he adds seriously a moment later. "I know how challenging working here can be, especially while still finding your way into the profession as a surgical resident… And I know what the climate is like here, what the people are like." He pauses to look her in the eye. "If anyone—I don't care if it's a department head or a janitor—says anything derogatory to you about your situation or your relationship, please report them to me."

Lexie gives him a weak smile, half-feeling like she might laugh. "Thank you for the concern, Dr. Webber," she replies, "but this isn't middle school. I'm not going to send every nurse that says a mean word about me to the principal."

"Dr. Grey." Richard leans over his desk towards the intern. "Please take note of the fact that I am _serious _about this. I know this hospital can be a rude and sometimes incredibly hurtful place. There is no reason you should have to deal with those sorts of experiences on a daily basis, not after what you've been through these past few weeks."

Lexie stares at him for a few silent minutes before clearing her throat lightly. "Is that all?" She asks politely. Richard regards her for a moment before nodding slowly. Just when Lexie's about to open her mouth to speak, though, he holds up a finger. She waits patiently for him to reach the end of his train of thought. "Dr. Grey…" He begins. "Am I correct in saying that you initially thought I called you in here to discuss your job performance?"

Lexie looks down at the floor briefly. "Yes," she replies after a moment. "I did." She takes a breath. "I know I may have slipped a bit in these past few weeks, but I assure you—"

"On the contrary, Dr. Grey," Richard interrupts, "your professionalism and continued work ethic despite your circumstances in rather astounding."

"As…Astounding?" Lexie repeats dumbly.

Richard nods, sparing a moment to smile at the young intern. "I've seen many employees—even a few interns—experience various losses while on the job. Many of them requested extended leave to deal with their grief, others took it out on their coworkers, and some, sadly, let it cloud their judgment while on the job." He sighs quietly, happily. "But your ability to hold things together and not only survive your job, but excel in it is really…" He shrugs. "I'll just have to say it again: you astound me."

She gives him a tiny smile. "Well, thank you, Dr. Webber. That…that really lifts a large weight off my shoulders."

Richard inclines his head toward her. "I would love to do nothing else."

"But," she hedges a moment later, "about what you offered earlier… That is much more support than I ever expected…or wanted." She sighs softly. "Please believe me when I say that I am incredibly grateful for all that you've done for Mark and I over the past weeks… But just know that I, at least—" she spares a quick glance to her boyfriend "—_I _will not be taking advantage of anything you have offered me today." She lifts her chin. "I'm here to do my job, Dr. Webber, and I hope that after today that will be all that I'm here for."

The Chief of Surgery takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as he reclines in his chair. He tilts his head, tipping his chin towards one of his senior surgeons. "Do you share this outlook?"

Mark moves forward in his chair, looking his boss in the eye. "For now, yes. I agree with Lexie that work is for work. We've always tried to keep our personal life our of this hospital—at home—and I hope it will continue to be that way."

Richard sighs again, nodding reluctantly. "All right," he finally acquiesces. "If you really want it to be that way, that's fine." He gets to his feet, and Mark and Lexie both follow his example. "If at any time, though, you would like to take me up on my promise for extra leave or some of our grief counselors, please do not hesitate to ask me. The offer will stand for as long as I am Chief of Surgery here."

Lexie nods.

"Thank you," Mark replies quietly.

"Well…" Richard holds out a hand towards his office door. "I guess this is the point where I tell you to leave my office and keep your personal life out of the halls of this hospital." He gives them a friendly smile a moment later, and both Mark and Lexie let out feeble chuckles at his weak joke. A minute later, they're both headed to the door.

Richard calls out to Lexie just as she and Mark and walking out the door. "And, Dr. Grey?"

She pauses, loitering between the hallway and the Chief's office.

"I am truly sorry for bringing it up," he apologizes softly. "If I had known…"

She forces a smile. "It's okay. I'm sorry I broke down and cried in your office, Dr. Webber. It was…" She trails off with a sigh. "Really unprofessional."

He shakes his head, his face still full of kindness. "You don't ever need to apologize for grieving after a lost child, Dr. Grey." He gives her a small smile. "You are a mother, after all."

Lexie Grey stares at her boss for so long after he says those words, both he and her boyfriend are worried she's about to fall apart again. But at long last, she speaks. Her voice shakes and her chin trembles, but she gets out the words: "Thank you."

_._

_Late June_

_._

"Hey," Mark calls. "I'm home."

"Hey," Lexie replies, walking over to meet him with a smile on her face.

"What was that for?" He asks softly as she kisses him hello, pressing her chest to his.

"No reason," she whispers against his lips. "I'm just happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you too," he replies, looking into her eyes. Lexie steps forward, pressing her body to his and wrapping her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Mark responds immediately, though a little taken aback, and wraps his arms around her back. As the heat between them rises, they begin kissing like they used to, their lips crashing and falling upon one another's like waves breaking on a shore. When they come up for air a minute later, there's an amused glimmer in Mark's eye and a light flush to his girlfriend's cheeks.

"I've missed you," Lexie whispers breathlessly. "_Really _missed you."

"I've missed you too," he replies, cupping her face. He leans forward, drawing her lips to his, and letting his mouth fuse onto hers again. They kiss slowly this time, as if they're exploring uncharted territory, and they want to do so carefully. It's only a couple minutes before Lexie's hands wander to his chest, slipping down his front as they unzipper his dark leather jacket. Mark shrugs out of it easily, letting it fall, discarded, to the floor. Her hands then drift downward, tugging at the hem of his shirt, letting her fingers explore the muscled abdomen beneath the fabric. As her fingers reach higher, almost to his torso, Mark breaks the kiss, letting his hands fall to hers, holding them immobilized between them as he meets her eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, short of breath. This is the first time they've had any real intimate contact since they lost their son, and Mark doesn't want to scare her away or hurt her further by letting her rush through things just because she's upset or feeling lonely. He doesn't want to do anything to break the small, yet unsatisfying peace they've found in their lives since the disaster-slash-connection in New York. _But_, another side of him reasons—the side he has less control over, the selfish side—_what if this is what she needs, what if this is what she's been waiting for?_ What if this could shatter the veiled sadness they've been living behind for months?

"Yes," she replies, drawing his face back to hers so their lips are on the verge of meeting. She knows what he's worried about and she's determined to prove him wrong_. I'm not weak. I can do this._ "Yes, I'm sure."

"Medically," he interrupts, tearing his mouth from hers. "Medically, can you—"

"Mark," she interrupts with a small smile. "It's been almost three months. Two periods have gone by. I'm healthy, I'm fine… But I need us to be fine."

He stares at her for a long moment before a grin spreads over his face. She smiles reflexively at his happiness, and when he steps forward and crushes her body against his in a tight hug, she manages to weakly hug him back. "We'll be more than fine," he whispers in her ear. She smiles, reaching down at taking his hand. She tugs on it lightly, leading him to the back of their apartment.

Before either of them really knows what's happened, the two are in the bedroom with their clothes off. Lying comfortably on the mattress beneath him, Lexie pulls her boyfriend's head down to meet her lips for a deep kiss. She almost jumps a second later when his hands move to cup her hips, sliding over the sensitive skin just beneath her navel. She breaks the kiss with a quiet, forced laugh as his fingertips ghost over her ticklish skin. He meets her eye, a half-hearted smile on his lips. He can barely look at her without remembering the last time they'd been together like this: laughing, grinning, shouting, moaning… He can see it in his mind's eye, and the scene taunts him with its happiness and unattainability.

.

_"Mark, stop it," Lexie shouts through her laughter, trying to shove his wandering hands away from her ticklish midsection._

_"Stop what?" He asks, pinning her beneath him as his lips move from hers to trail down her neck. "Stop this?" He asks, licking a trail down the curve of her collarbone and smoothing her sides with his palms. Lexie sighs, letting her eyes fall closed._

_"Mm, no, keep going," she murmurs, letting her hands tie into his hair as her legs wrap around his body, anchoring him to her. His mouth is at her breasts now, no doubt waiting with anticipation to lick and suck them to pearled nubs as he has many times before._

_"Markkk." Lexie's moan draws out his name, causing him to grin against her soft skin as his tongue swirls around her right nipple. He takes his time before switching to the left and depositing the same treatment on her other side._

_"Mark, please," Lexie pleads a minute and a half later, her voice breathless and coming out in near-pants. "Quit teasing me already."_

_"I wasn't teasing," Mark replies, shifting his weight so he can lean closer to her face. "A tease is someone who has no intention of giving in to temptation." He ducks down, kissing her languidly. "Whereas I…" He grins. "I have every intention of giving you what you want."_

_He punctuates his soft-spoken statement roughly by thrusting into her wet heat in one fluid motion, bringing him up to the hilt of her body. Lexie closes her eyes in ecstasy, letting out a little cry of pleasure just before Mark begins moving within her. Each time he pulls out, he almost reaches the surface before thrusting back in again—hard and full of unmasked desire. Lexie reaches up, wrapping her forearms around his neck and kissing him passionately, encouraging him silently but effectively. In minutes, seconds—_

.

Mark hesitates just before they are about to join, nervous now as he's been about every step that's led up to this moment. "Lex," he whispers again. "Are you sur—"

"Mark, please," Lexie cuts in. Her hands reach up to cup his face. "Please," she whispers, looking into his eyes. He hesitates for only a moment more, unable to tell if its true arousal or a desperation to forget in her eyes, before thrusting himself gently within her. Both Lexie and Mark's eyes fall closed at the wave of intimacy; Mark lets his head fall and rest against her chest, murmuring her name. Lexie's hands latch onto his shoulders, hitching her body even closer to his, needing something to hold onto before she breaks…

Neither move for a few minutes, but when Mark raises his head, his eyes immediately find hers. Lexie's eyes, which are still closed, have tears leaking out the sides, trailing down her face at the slowest of paces.

"Are you all right?" He asks dumbly, terrified he was too rough with her fragile body or that their actions were premature. _What if _she_ was ready but her body wasn't? What if she couldn't take it? What if she's still recovering? What if I _hurt_ her?_ Mark thinks, horrified. _Oh, god, what if—_

"Lexie," he whispers, his voice tinged with terror. "Lexie, are you—"

"I'm—I'm," she breaks off. "Just—just give me a moment," Lexie murmurs a second later, raising her hand to once again hold his cheek in comfort. She opens her eyes a second later, hoping she's in control of her emotions… Or at least her expression of them. "I'm okay," she says at last. "You can keep going."

He frowns, shaking his head. "No. Not if I'm hurting you," Mark replies seriously, bringing a ring of finality to his voice and their conversation.

"You aren't," Lexie whispers. "This is—this is what I wanted—"

"—But?" Mark cuts in knowingly. Lexie's eyes fill once again at his qualification, and Mark's heart breaks at the sight.

"But it isn't working," Lexie explains in tears, looking down. "I—I thought this might make us normal or—" She sucks in a sharp breath "—or _happy _or something, but it…" She sniffs loudly. "It's only made things worse."

"Lex…"

"All I do is make things worse," she admits tearfully. " I can't stop thinking about him," she whispers. "And I don't—I don't want us to act like he's gone. I don't want to move on with—without him," Lexie whispers. "Ev—Everyone else has," she cries, "everyone's forgotten… But, Mark, _I _haven't forgotten. I _can't _forget, no matter how hard I try."

Mark reaches down to stroke her face with his fingertips, lifting her eyes to his. "I know, baby," he whispers. "I can't forget, either, believe me." He attempts to detach their bodies and lie next to her, but her protesting hands keep him reluctantly in place. He still can't shake the feeling that he's hurting her, and it keeps him on edge.

"I know," he repeats a moment later. "But we can't do anything for him. He's—gone." Mark's voice cracks. "No matter how much we try to remember him, that won't bring him back, Lex." She cries harder at this, not gleaning any comfort from his words. "I miss him just as much as you do. Truly, I do." Tears begin to fill his eyes as well. "But we can't—we can't keep living like this, Lex. We _aren't_ living. We lost him and there's no way we can go back." He lifts a hand to stroke her hair, speaking softly. "I don't want to say we should move on, because I don't want to, but—we—we could at least _try_ to be happy." He swallows roughly, staring at her. "We could try. And if that means putting him out of our minds for a couple minutes or a few hours during the day...If that's what it takes to fix us, to make us happy—then, Lex, I'll do it. I…" He trails off, forcing himself to take a breath. "I just want us to be happy, Lexie." He shakes his head at the futility of that wish. "I want the pain to go away."

Lexie stares at him for a long minute before whispering, very softly, "This isn't fair." She avoids his eye as she speaks, feeling like a child with her elementary-school complaints. But Mark's face fills with sorrow at her words, his grief plain to see on his face.

"I know," he murmurs, bending down to kiss her bare shoulder softly. "Nothing about this is fair. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Why does it have to hurt?" She whispers brokenly. "And—And so much, so strongly? All—All I wanted was to be with you." She looks away, wiping her eyes. "Just—just for a few minutes, like—like you said, I just wanted to forget about what happened to us. I wanted to be _happy, _Mark_. _I wanted to be in love." She bites her lower lip, trying to forestall the tears she can feel springing to her eyes. "I thought doing this would help us, but I… I guess this was just another lie I told myself, the same as all the others."

"You weren't lying to yourself." Lexie opens her eyes at her boyfriend's hushed but harsh words. "You weren't lying to yourself," he repeats. "We are in love." He swallows. "We might not be happy right now, Lex, but we do love each other."

Her expression shakes when she tries to force a smile. "Then why haven't we made love in months?"

Mark sighs, closing his eyes in sadness. But Lexie continues undeterred.

"If we're so in love, why do we spend all our time brooding and crying? Why don't we have friends over for dinner or meet up at work? Why don't we talk about anything besides the baby we lost? Why… Why don't we makes joke or… Or laugh anymore?" Her breath catches, and Mark opens his eyes reluctantly, just in time to see his girlfriend's eyes spill over with tears. "Mark," she whispers, reaching up to hold his face in her hands, "when's the last time one of us has laughed?"

He shakes his head, not knowing the answer. He stares down at her in silence for a few seconds before slowly untangling their bodies and moving to lie, facing her on his side, on their bed.

"It's been months, Mark," Lexie whispers, staring at him with tortured eyes. "Why can't we be happy? Why can't we live a normal life?"

Mark's eyes close, and his mouth draws down in a saddened frown. "I don't know," he whispers into the darkness behind his eyelids. He squeezes his eyes shut harder, as if cutting his mind off from visual stimulation will stop it from working. But it doesn't. The more he tries not to think about that horrible day last April and the unborn son they lost, the more his mind is flooded with toxic and torturous images. They pile up in his brain—blood-stained and tear-streaked—until he can't take it anymore. But the reality that greets him is not much better.

"Oh, Lex," he whispers, touching his girlfriend's cheek softly as he takes in her tearful expression. "Lexie…"

"Did you…" She wipes her face—first the left cheek, then the right—before letting her hand fall to the mattress and speaking again. "Did you know I dream about him?" She asks softly. Lexie keeps her eyes trained on his, watching as his body freezes next to hers. "Yeah," she continues without waiting for a response. "I do."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mark asks in a hushed tone, imaging her dreams to be made of the same horrible material that feeds his horrific nightmares.

"I don't know," she whispers with a shrug.

"What…" Mark swallows, bracing himself for the worst. "What do you dream about?"

Lexie shrugs again, and Mark moves closer until their faces are barely an inch apart. He stares into her eyes until she speaks. "I dream about us," Lexie replies eventually, just as Mark was sure she was going to say _I don't know _again. Her voice is soft and sweet, flowing smoothly like it used to before the grief and pain ruined her voice. "What it would be like if it was us three. You, me, and…" Mark can see her visibly swallow, the muscles in her throat working to give her a voice. "And Michael," she finishes with effort, her voice almost inaudible. "We're—we're a family in my dreams."

It takes Mark many minutes and multiple long, deep breaths to process this. _She isn't having nightmares._ He almost smiles, but not before realizing that he can never tell her. Her dreams, for now, are happy. He has no right to poison that beautiful but unattainable future her mind has generously supplied for her with his horror-story nightmares. _It's not her fault your mind is a cesspool of pain and suffering, _he reminds himself. _Just like your life, she was quick to point out._

When Mark manages to speak, his voice comes out much more ragged than he'd intended. "Do you see him?" He asks, studying the fibers in their bed sheets and latching onto one good thing in all of this. Lexie glances over to him at the question, quietly surprised that he isn't looking at her. The longer she stares at him, the more sure she becomes that he's struggling not to cry again in front of her.

"Oh, honey," Lexie murmurs, finally realizing. She reaches out a trembling hand, placing it on his shoulder. "Mark…"

"I just want to know what he looks like," Mark replies, still not meeting her eyes. She can feel the tension in his shoulders, and she knows he's physically holding himself together so he doesn't fall to pieces in front of her. "I—I want to know my own son."

Lexie closes her eyes at his words, biting the inside of her lower lip to keep her own tears in. "Baby, they're dreams," she explains after a few seconds of tense silence. "They aren't real."

Mark shakes his head, and Lexie watches as the movement dislodges a few tears that were threatening to fall down his cheeks. He doesn't bother brushing them away, focusing instead on breathing properly. _Mine feel plenty real, _he thinks but doesn't say. "I've never seen him, Lex," he whispers. "I—I don't know what he looks like or who he is—"

"I don't either," Lexie assures him hurriedly. "Mark, I don't know him any better than you."

"But you _do_," he replies, his voice desperate. "You know him so much better than I do. I've never had anything to do with him, but you—you were there. You always had him with you. He was a part of you."

"Mark, _please_," Lexie whispers. "You had everything to do with him. Don't try and tell me you weren't involved. Don't say that. Don't do that to yourself, or to me. You were his father."

Mark takes a shaky breath. "I—I was involved," he concedes after a minute. "But I… I had—I _have_—no idea who he is. Was. I don't know him like you do."

"I don't know him either!" Lexie exclaims in protest. "You have to believe that; I have no idea who he is!"

"You're his mother," Mark counters calmly. "You know him."

"Mark, that would have been true if he'd—if he'd l—lived…" She swallows roughly. "But he didn't. So I don't know him. He… Mark, he was barely a person when we lost him. He was barely alive."

Mark tries to bite his lower lip to keep it from quivering, but all he succeeds in is drawing blood. "I know," he whispers a moment later, licking his injured lip as the tears fall from his eyes. Their salt mixes with his cut lip, but he doesn't flinch at the sharp pain. His voice is as biting as the cut on his lip when he speaks. "I know he was barely alive, Lexie, but thank you for reminding me."

She leans towards him, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck as she hugs him "I'm so sorry, honey."

"Me too," Mark whispers back, holding her tight in an apology for his bitter words.

"It'll—" She pulls back, looking him in the eye with a struggling-to-be-optimistic smile. "It'll be alright, won't it?"

He forces a returning smile. "Sure," he whispers with a tired sigh. "Sure it'll be alright."

.

_Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I know it was quite sad, but I'm guessing you guys knew that would be the deal before you started reading. Anyway, I would **LOVE** to hear what you guys thought of the first chapter! Please leave me a review below!_

_I will try to update soon, but again, this is quite a work in progress. I apologize for any delays._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

_Story Note:__ Thank you to each person who reviewed the last chapter! I'm very sorry about the delay, but here is the second chapter! Hopefully late is better than never and you guys are sticking with me!_

_Chapter Note:__ This chapter picks up the day after the end of the last chapter. The italics in this bit are flashbacks. Specifically for people who hate Callie (like me): I know it's hard to think this way, but please try to remember that she is **5th** season Callie in this fic. **5th** season Callie, who approves (and encourages) Mark and Lexie, who isn't so absorbed in her own sexuality it's all the thinks/talks about, 5th season Callie who is kind of all-around awesome… This is the old Callie, the good Callie. Remember that._

_._

"Hey," Callie calls, meeting Mark as he exits his apartment and steps into the hallway. "How're you doing?" Mark turns, midway through locking the door, to face her. He forces a cheerful tone, and twists his lips upward to resemble a smile.

"Hey, Cal. What's up?"

"Not much. I was just heading to the hospital—you going in too?"

"I'm on call," Mark yawns, pulling his key out of the lock. Callie bites back the urge to make a joke at his tired state—its unlucky to work all day without having rested—but she knows it would be in horrible taste. Even Mark, king of all things inappropriate, wouldn't appreciate it in the least. Not anymore. She knows he and Lexie haven't been getting much sleep these past few months, and it has nothing to do with their physical relationship.

"You all right?" She asks instead, falling into step beside him as they head to the elevator. Mark sighs, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

"Lexie is... She's still...broken."

"Mark, she'll be _okay_," Callie emphasizes, brushing over the fact that he skirted around her question. "Just give her some _time_." This has to be the hundredth time she's told him this. And every time, she gets the same sad, lost look for a response.

"You don't understand, Cal."

"What don't I understand?"

_Everything,_ Mark wants to say. He holds his tongue. Blaming her for something she couldn't possibly understand will solve nothing. "She tried to sleep with me," Mark states, his voice devoid of emotion as they continue walking slowly forward towards the elevator.

Callie raises her eyebrows. She hadn't thought about it before, but it must be weeks, months maybe, since those two spent any time together like that. "Did she… succeed?" The orthopedic surgeon wonders tentatively.

"Yes. No. Sort of."

Callie waits a beat before speaking her mind gently. "Why do I get the feeling it didn't go well?"

Mark sighs, closing his eyes, and, to Callie's surprise, stops in his tracks. "She was crying," Mark tells her softly. "Really crying. Sobbing."

"Oh, Mark..." Callie's face falls. She steps forward, rushing to comfort him. "It's not your—"

"Don't tell me it wasn't my fault," Mark cuts in harshly, shaking off her hand she'd used to reach out to him. "Because it _was_ my fault. I let it go that far, and I didn't stop her, even when I _knew_ she wasn't herself. I—"

"You can't expect her to be herself."

"I don't!" He shouts, suddenly furious. Callie doesn't even flinch. "I don't expect her to be herself! But _I_ expect to have enough sense in my own head not to make it any worse for her!"

Callie falls quiet at his outburst, giving him time to calm down, before wondering cautiously: "Was she just...not ready...yet?"

"I guess," Mark sighs, his momentary anger already deflated. "One minute it was fine, normal, even—" He breaks off. "We… We were even back—back to what we used to be. And the next… she was sobbing and I had no idea what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Callie replies softly. "It's not you, Mark. She's trying to push herself."

"Yeah, I know," Mark mutters bitterly. "She's trying to push herself. With me. For me. She's trying to rush back to what we had before because she thinks that's what I want."

"It is what you want," Callie points out quietly.

"No, I—" He breaks off, wanting to argue but knowing every argument would be a lie. "I just want her to be okay," he whispers a moment later. Callie watches him swallow, and a second later, his voice is rising again. "I don't care about work or friends or _sex_ or any of that stupid crap she keeps trying to make us do!" He calls. "I _don't care _about anything but _her_, Cal! I _want_ her to be okay! I _want _her to be normal, to be happy, to be who she used to be—Why isn't—Why can't we just—" He turns around, walking a few steps away to cool off before returning to Callie. "This is bullshit," he mutters. "Why am I the one who can get up and go to work and _live_ while she's the one left devastated, no matter what she does? How is that fucking _fair_?"

"Mark," Callie says softly.

"Why can't I just be the broken one?" he continues as if she hadn't spoken. "I've always been screwed up so I'm used to it; I can deal with it. But she…" He closes his eyes. "She shouldn't have to deal with this. She shouldn't have to do it all by herself."

Callie sighs quietly, waiting until her best friend opens his eyes and looks at her.

"What?" He mutters, knowing she has something to say.

Callie takes a step towards him before speaking. "You… don't want her to do it all by herself?" Callie wonders. Mark nods. "Well…" She trails off, a smile hiding just on the edges of her lips. "You remember when you had me come downtown with you a few months ago?"

Mark stares at her in confusion for a split-second before recognition dawns on his face.

"She doesn't have to get through it all by herself, Mark."

.

_"Look," Callie begins. "I don't mean to be rude here—but this is a useless errand. I thought she said 'no' when you asked her."_

_ "That's because I didn't really ask her," Mark replies, pulling open the door to the jewelry shop and holding it for her. He stares at her seriously once they're inside. "I mean, I didn't even say the words. It wasn't a real proposal."  
>"But she still said no," Callie reminds him. She glances around at the endless glass cases, her eyes going wide despite herself at all the beauty and expense in the room. "And you… Wow," she murmurs, stepping forward to inspect a certain piece. She stares at it intently for a moment before clearing her throat and stepping back. She glances to her friend. "And you really think a pretty ring is going to change her mind?"<em>

_ Mark smirks, joining her at the counter. "I think if I offered you whatever you wanted in this store, and gave it to you on the condition that you had to marry me, you would. Right away."_

_ "Well, I'm glad you broke the ice," Callie grins, pulling him towards the earrings she was looking at. "Because this is what I want. In addition to everything in this store," she adds. Mark laughs, steering her away from the earrings._

_ "You're here to help me pick out something for Lexie, not for yourself. Why don't you focus on the task at hand?"_

_ Callie groans theatrically. "Fine. Show me what you've got picked out."_

.

"I'd—completely forgotten," Mark manages, his brain working fast. It immediately goes to his dresser, the very back of his sock drawer, and the small box he's kept hidden there. "But I was going to—" He turns around, looking over his shoulder as if Lexie were there to overhear. She isn't, of course, but he lowers his voice nonetheless. "I was going to wait until he was born to ask her," he admits quietly. "Again," he adds after a moment.

Callie nods, remembering the plan he'd outlined for her. "And… now?" She wonders after a silent moment. "Do you still want to ask her?"

Mark glares at his friend as if she's crazy. "Of course I still want to ask her."

"So?"

"So…"

Callie smiles, putting a hand on his arm. "I think you should start figuring out how you're going to do it," she suggests. She shrugs with a grin spreading over her face. "Who knows? Maybe this will be the thing to make you guys normal again."

.

On separate cases for the entire day, Mark and Lexie don't see each other until they're both home around seven that night. Lexie can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, most likely cooking, when she walks in. She hangs up her coat, puts away her purse, and takes a slow breath. He'd been called into work before she woke up, and since they had conflicting surgeries all day, she hadn't seen more than a glimpse of him going in and out of ORs for more than twelve hours. She hadn't spoken to him since the night before when—she shakes her head, trying to clear her mind. She knows if she lingers on it now, she'll never be able to say what she wants to say aloud. And she has to say it. She'll go crazy if she stews about it for another day.

So she inhales, lifts her head, and walks toward their kitchen with determined, pronounced steps. She enters the room to find his back to her, his attention focused on the stove.

"About last night," Lexie calls quietly, not bothering to ease into hard topics anymore. "I wanted to say that I'm really sorry…" She trails off as she watches him shake his head.

"Please don't," he whispers, reaching out and bracing himself against the counter before him.

"Please don't what?" She replies, taking a step forward. She watches him with worried eyes as he lifts his head, turning around to face her.

"Please don't apologize," he returns in a whisper. He sighs quietly, staring across the island between them and into her eyes. "I can't take it with all your apologies."

Lexie frowns, shifting her weight to one foot. "Are you going to say this isn't my fault again? Because it _was _my fault, Mark. Last night was my fault. I started it."

"And I didn't stop you," Mark replies quietly.

Lexie's face draws inward, her forehead puckered in confusion and sorrowful disbelief. "Don't… Don't tell me you blame yourself for this, too, Mark."

"I could say the same thing to you," he mutters.

They stare at each other for a tense, silent moment, before a small smile spreads on Lexie's lips. "What, are we going to have to start picking straws?" She jokes weakly. "If I want the blame for last night, then you get to hold onto your precious guilt for not 'protecting me' or whatever it is that you're always going on about?" Her smile widens just the tiniest bit. "Are we even now, then?"

Mark can't help himself—spurred on by the smile on her face, the light in her eyes, the amusement in her voice—he laughs. It's soft and quiet, but it's there. It makes the two of them freeze for a second, but when their eyes lock together in shock, the stunned, almost scared look on each of their faces makes both of them chuckle even more.

"So," Mark smiles after their weak but genuine laughter has died down, "I guess you can check those two things off your list."

Lexie cants her head at him, walking around the island to join him at the stove as he turns back to whatever meal he's making. "What list?" She wonders, stopping beside him. "What two things?"

He smiles over at her, leaning down to press a firm kiss to the side of her head. "You talked about having a normal life," he replies, stirring a pot on the stove. "And two of the things you wanted us to do was tell jokes and laugh."

Lexie can't help but give him a small smile. "They were pretty awful jokes," she replies.

He shrugs. "They fit the criteria: they were jokes." He looks at her pointedly. "Unless you were serious, that is. Because I'll take you up on that deal any day."

Lexie buries her head in his shoulder, but even then he can feel the quiet laughter escape from between her lips. He wraps a free arm around her waist, holding her closer than the situation might warrant, and relishing in the fact that for once—_for once_—she isn't close to him, she isn't pressed into his shoulder, because of unmanageable, unendurable grief. The small box in his other pocket suddenly feels a bit heavier. But he doesn't despair at the weight; he doesn't rush into relieving the strain. Like the feel of her leaning against him, smiling into his shoulder, it's a good weight. It's a welcome weight, and it will be alleviated when the right time comes.

.

_Author's Note: This chapter was a bit more optimistic, right? :) I hope you guys will all review and leave me your thoughts and speculations; nothing like reviews pushes me to update!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter! Here is the third (and regrettably short) chapter:

.

_July_

_._

Unwanted and unforgotten memories flash through Lexie Grey's mind as she pulls a small cardboard container, no bigger than a shoebox, out from the bottom of her closet. She holds in gingerly in her hands, staring at its lid as she carries it to the edge of her bed, where she sits quietly, letting it rest lightly on her thighs. Despite the weight of the memories and emotions threatening to drown her at moments like these, the box and its contents remain unsatisfyingly light, as if they were made of feathers and not simple paper and plastic. The absence of heaviness makes it seem to Lexie like a breeze could roll in, and, at any moment, the memories the box evoked, as well as everything inside it, could blow away.

The thought terrified her—that she could lose and forget everything that had happened last April—but, if she was being truly honest with herself, there were times when Lexie wished exactly that would happen. Sometimes she wishes she could just forget, even though she knows she has to hold on. Despite feeling like she's dying while she nurses those painful memories, Lexie knows she couldn't live with herself if she tried to forget.

_Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em._

She feels her chin tremble at the thought; remembering hearing others (and even herself) throw away that saying in jokes like it meant nothing. But now… Now it means everything. She stares down at the small black-and-white ultrasound picture, feeling her eyes prick sharply with tears.

_How am I supposed to live without him?_

.

Mark Sloan is standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He was just about to walk in a minute ago, but the sight of his girlfriend holding a supposedly long-buried (both emotionally and physically) cardboard box in her hands stopped him before he could even cross the threshold. He actually feels his breath catch as he hovers in the doorway, watching her.

He knew, of course, that they hadn't gotten past what happened in April. Anyone could see that, and everyone knew it. But still… He had no idea she still looked. He thought, when they'd placed that positive pregnancy test and their only picture of him in that box, Lexie had left it alone. It's been a month since they closed the lid and shoved it to the very bottom of the closet, just as it should have been kept in the bottom of their minds.

But he shouldn't have suspected anything different. Lexie had always done what she wanted, no matter what the cost to herself or others. She had always dwelled on what everyone else wanted to forget, wanted to move past. She had always held on. And he loved her for that, especially now. Especially in spite of what had happened. And he had no reason to judge, considering how often he himself picked up that box when she was asleep or at work or out of the room. They were both hurt, and he had no room to judge, especially when judging made him a hypocrite.

But now… _Now, _Mark thinks, holding on tight to his own little box, _now things will change. They have to, for both of our sakes'._

Lexie is too preoccupied by the contents of the box in front of her, that she doesn't notice her boyfriend has entered the room until he gently shuts the lid. She looks up, and her eyes immediately widen and follow him to the floor as he gently sinks to one knee.

"Mark," Lexie breathes, not knowing what to say and not feeling at all ready for this. She'd told him she didn't want to get married when she was pregnant. _Why would I want to now that we've lost him_? She thinks, confused and frustrated. _Why does he always have to solve things with big gestures? Why can't he just take small steps? _"I don't think—"

"Then don't think," Mark replies quietly, moving the small box out of her lap and depositing it by her side. He doesn't miss the fact that her eyes follow his every movement, and he knows how much she would have preferred it if he'd left her alone with her memories, with her pain, with her grief. But Mark can't do that. He can't leave her alone, not anymore. He has to act, and he has to do it now. He has to make things better. He has to at least try. He has to.

"I want to marry you," Mark tells her, holding the small black box in his right hand and opening it. "I love you."

"I know that," Lexie replies, her voice barely audible. She can already feel the unshed tears clogging her throat. "I love you too."

"Are you going to say 'no' again?" His quiet tone matches hers.

"You didn't ask before," she deflects.

"I'm asking now," he points out.

"I can see that."

"Are you really not going to answer me?"

"Mark, I…" She takes a breath, trying to collect her now-scrambled thoughts. "I know why you're doing this, okay? I know why you're proposing."

"Yes, that's because I just told you: I love you."

Lexie closes her eyes. When she opens them, she does it slowly, as if hoping both he and the ring would disappear. _No such luck._ "You want to marry me because you want stability," Lexie informs him. "You want to marry me because you want to control some part of your life after—after what happened. After we lost him."

"I don't want to control you," Mark replies, slightly disgusted by the implication.

"You know how I meant it," Lexie replies, sullen.

"And you should know how _I _meant it," Mark corrects, still holding the ring before her. "I want to marry you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I do want stability, but I want it for the reasons that everyone else wants it: because I've found the person for me and I want it to be official."

"I…" Lexie tucks her lower lip between her teeth, unsure of what to say.

"You can't say you don't want to spend the rest of your life with me too, Lex."

"No, I do, I do, just…" Her eyes are pleading with his, telling him she doesn't want to do this. "Just not now. Please, Mark? Not now."

"When would be better? When we forget?" He swallows roughly. "Because believe me, Lex, that's never going to happen."

"_Mark_," Lexie chokes out.

"It isn't going to happen," he insists. "But what _is_ going to happen is, I'm going to propose a question and you're going to answer it."

"Mark, I'm asking you to _please _hold off on this. I'm begging you."

Mark stares at her, blinking slowly. He forces himself to get the words out. "You're… You're really saying 'no,' then? Again?"

Lexie bites her lip in deliberation, and Mark jumps at his chance.

"Come on," he whispers, taking her hand. "Are you really going to stare down at me on my knees here and say 'no?' Are you going to shoot me down _again_?"

"That first time—"

"—wasn't a proposal, I know," he finishes for her. He takes a breath, holding her gaze intently. "But this is," he tells her seriously. "I'm on one knee, I'm holding a ring, and I'm looking up at you, asking you—_begging you_—to please marry me." He blinks so slowly she thought his eyes had fallen closed for a moment. Their blue irises are even more intense when they open again. "If you say 'no,' we won't break up because of it," he tells her quietly. "We won't fight or fall apart… Because you are too important to me and I won't let us be ruined like that. But Lex… Think about all we've been through in the past year. Think about how much we relied on each other, how much we still rely on each other… And you're saying you don't want to marry me, you don't want to have me to rely on for the rest of your life, because today isn't the _right day _to talk about it?"

"It's more than that," Lexie tries to interrupt. "I—"

"No day will be the right day, Lex. Since April, every day has been wrong. But…" He sighs, glancing down at the ring in his hand. "Maybe if we do this, things will start to look better, and brighter, and _righter_."

Lexie swallows painfully, staring at him. "Getting married won't fix our problems, Mark. It isn't a solution to everything we've gone through."

He nods. "I know that. But it is a step, and it's one in the right direction."

Lexie closes her eyes at his words, sucking in a desperate breath. She feels her eyes prick with tears and she squeezes them tighter together. A few minutes pass in tense silence, and when Mark can't take it anymore, he reaches out to hold her hand.

"I'm not demanding that you say yes," he begins quietly. His voice is scratchy, and if she didn't have her eyes shut closed against her own tears, she'd be searching his blue eyes for his. "But I am demanding that you give me an answer. Just so I know where we stand."

Lexie takes a deep breath, tucking her chin in as she exhales. She counts silently and shakily in her head to three, and then opens her eyes. She looks down at him, meeting his eyes automatically… And immediately, she can see how much he needs this. She was half-right before when she said he only wanted to marry her for stability. It was true, that's what he wanted—but it wasn't all that he wanted. He loved her too. He saw a real future with her; he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, even after all the pain and heartbreak they'd been through together. He didn't want to leave her behind or forget what had happened… No, instead, he wanted to create a future on that broken foundation and learn how to repair it and heal. Lexie bites her lip harder, thinking. The loss of Michael in itself had been a sort of marriage, a union over grief and death, hadn't it? It was something that both Mark and Lexie were sure would never fade; it was something that bound them together forever, since it was clear neither would forget. _It's true, I suppose, _Lexie reasons._ We're practically already married in every other sense of the word_—Lexie takes another deep breath as she thinks this—_why not make it official?_

"Okay," she whispers finally, her voice cracked and hoarse and shaking. She clears her throat a second later, and her words are clearer when she speaks next. "Okay," she says again. "You're right."

"I'm right about what?"

"About… About everything." Lexie swallows, summoning the last of her courage. "You're right about this being the necessary next step, about it maybe being a healing process, about…" She trails off with a quiet sigh, gripping his hand tightly. "I'm saying yes." She watches as his expression freezes, locking itself into its previous confusion, before she speaks again. "Yes, I'll marry you."

His returning words are exhaled in relief, barely able to be heard as he lifts himself from the floor and takes her in his arms, holding her as close as possible: "Thank you so much."

.

_Author's Note: I rewrote this chapter many times. For a long while, I always had her saying 'no.' How do you guys feel about the 'yes?' Yay or nay for realism? Please leave me a review with your thoughts; nothing helps me to write better or update quicker than getting your guys' feedback. (Again, I'm sorry the chapter was so short.)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

_Author's Note: This chapter picks up right where the last one left off. Thank you to all who reviewed. I hope you like the chapter; please continue to review!_

.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Lexie whispers, staring down at the diamond ring on her left hand.

Mark looks over at her, raising his eyebrows at his new fiancée. "Hm?"

"You're going to have to have dinner with my dad again," Lexie warns him, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "And you'll have to meet Molly."

Mark nods thoughtfully, processing this. "Your dad I can handle. Does Molly know about us?"

"She knows about you. She knows we're serious. Not _this_ serious, of course. But I…" Lexie looks down for a second, swallowing. "I didn't tell her—or my dad, for that matter—about…about Michael."

Mark nods; he'd expected this. The first hurdle to tackle back in those early days had always been to tell Meredith and Derek—_tell them, tell them, tell them_—that it had started to seem like they were the only ones who needed to know. They were the most important, Mark and Lexie figured, since they both saw Meredith and Derek literally everyday. …Somehow her immediate family had come in second. Looking back, Mark's incredibly glad their priorities were so out of whack at the time. Having to go to Molly and Thatcher days or a week later to explain what had happened after they'd lost him would have ruined Lexie, he's sure of it. But, he realizes sadly a second later, breaking the news now probably won't be any easier.

"We'll have to tell them," he says eventually.  
>Lexie nods slowly in agreement. "I know."<p>

He seeks out her eyes when he hears her melancholy voice. "Hey," he murmurs, giving her an encouraging smile and placing his hand atop hers. "It'll be okay. They'll understand."

"I know," Lexie replies softly. "It's just… getting married, this is our chance to move on, you know? …And the _first_ thing we're doing is telling my family that about the miscarriage," she finishes sadly.

"We have to tell them sometime, Lex. The way I see it, it's better to get it over with at the start and avoid all the uncomfortable conversations that are sure to follow when we tell them we're engaged."

Though she knows he's talking seriously about the idea that her sister or father could bring up the topic of pregnancy, Lexie still cracks a smile at his words. "'Uncomfortable conversations?'" She quotes, amused. "Don't tell me you're going to start harping about our age difference again."

Mark shakes his head; she can see a smile peeking out from between lips. "I've moved past that."

"About time," Lexie notes.

"Shut up," he mutters, nudging her lightly. "You can't tell me it wasn't a valid concern at the time."

"Yes, I can," Lexie replies. "My dad would never have taken notice of something like your age in relation to mine or his. And even if he did, I doubt he would have commented about it to your face. And even if he _did_ comment," Lexie continues, "I don't think anything he would have said to me would have cause me to rethink our relationship."

"And your sister?"

Lexie smiles, getting to her feet. "Molly's another story," she replies, pulling him up by their joined hands. "But I'm certain she'll like you just as much as Dad does, especially after she finds out we're spending the rest of our lives together." She smiles. "She won't have any other choice except to love you like I do."

Mark can't help but grin at her words; he smiles happily down at her while stepping closer. "What?" She wonders, looking up at him and taking in the unabashed happiness on his face.

"It's just nice, is all," he replies quietly, bending down to touch his lips to hers, "to hear you throw around phrases like, 'we're spending the rest of our lives together,' and know that it's actually going to happen."

"Of course it's going to happen." Lexie smiles back, leaning forward to press her lips more firmly against his. "And it is nice, isn't it?"

.

"Okay," Lexie begins, taking stock of the situation at hand as they all sit down in the living room a few weeks later. "Now that everyone's been introduced… Dad, Molly…" She pauses to look at each family member in turn, unable to hide the smile on her face. "Mark and I…" She looks over, finding his eyes immediately and pleased to see that he's smiling back. She can barely manage to tear her gaze from his when she says the words. "We're getting married."

Molly Grey is the first to break the silence, jumping to her feet only seconds after she'd sat down. Her face breaks out in a wide smile. "That's amazing, Lexie!"

Lexie can't help but laugh in relief, feeling herself being pulled to her feet and into a welcome hug by her younger sister. "I was wondering when you'd finally get around to it," she mutters happily into her sister's ear. Lexie just smiles in reply, squeezing her sister's hand in hers when the pull apart. As Molly scrambles a moment later to inspect her sister's ring, Lexie glances over to the men in the room—and her eyes almost pop out of their sockets at the sight of her father and fiancé hugging. Thatcher's back is to her, so she can't see his expression, but from the look on Mark's face, it's clear that her father was the one to start it. And apparently he doesn't know his own strength. She bites back laughter when she sees her fiancé mouth '_Help me_' weakly. When his eyes narrow at her amusement a second later, she can't hold back the giggles. Molly looks up at the sound, finally letting go of Lexie's left hand.

"Ah," she murmurs knowingly, catching sight of her father and soon-to-be brother-in-law just before they step away, "Dad did the same thing with Eric." Molly grins, leaning in to whisper in her sister's ear. "You think he thought we'd end up spinsters with how happily he greets our fiancés."

Lexie smiles, murmuring to her sister, "I think he's a little too free with his affection for Mark's taste."

Molly chuckles, eyeing her soon-to-be-brother-in-law as he attempts to put the coffee table between himself and his fiancée's father to discourage further interaction. "Poor guy looks like he's on death's door."

"I suppose I should revive him, then," she replies, stepping forward. "Time for lunch?" She calls to the group, leading everyone to the kitchen. Mark's by her side in an instant; his hand grips her upper arm worriedly.

"Don't you ever leave the room the same time as Molly," he mutters in her ear in a low undertone. "I'll never forgive you if you leave me alone with your father. _Never_," he hisses before stepping away and taking his seat as Molly and Thatcher file in behind them. Lexie purposely directs her sister to the other side of the table, relieving Mark of having to sit side-by-side Thatcher. _Thank me later, _she mouths across the table to her fiancé, passing him a bowl of string beans.

.

"Well, Lexie," Thatcher begins with a smile an hour or so later, leaning back in his chair after the meal is finished. "That was amazing. I had no idea you could cook so well."

Lexie smiles, taking a sip of her water and glancing down at her empty plate. "Well, truth be told, it wasn't all my doing. Mark helped with the fish."

Thatcher turns his head to his soon-to-be son-in-law, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Ah, really? You like to cook, do you?"

Lexie bites her tongue, trying not to laugh when Mark's blue eyes seek out hers in desperation. _Why? _They beg, imploring her not to call the attention of her father.

"Uh, yeah," he replies a moment later, reluctantly meeting Thatcher Grey's interested gaze. "When we're not on-call, it's nice to be able to have real meals at home. Fish is pretty easy."

Molly glances to her sister, stepping in to shift the focus. "Lexie," she calls, turning to her sister, "would you like us to help you clear the table?"

"I'll help," Mark volunteers immediately, jumping to his feet and grabbing as many dishes as he can carry before Lexie can even manage a response. Thatcher and Lexie take their own, following him into the kitchen.

"You know," Thatcher murmurs into his daughter's ear on the way, "I think you've found a good one here. He cooks, he cleans, he's got a steady job…"

"And he loves me, too," Lexie adds with a half-glare at her father, "if the emotional side of things was important to you."

"Of course it's important to me," Thatcher replies with a smile. "I'm just telling you, Lexie: I like the guy."

"I thought we established that at dinner last year."

"That was then, this is now." They both reach the sink, setting down their dishes. Thatcher pauses, catching his daughter's eye. "And Lexie, I like what I've seen so far. He seems like a great guy." His kind smile turns amused a second later. "And we both know that if you find a man who can put up with you for more than six consecutive months straight, he's a keeper."

"Dad!" Lexie protests, her eyes widening in shock and embarrassment.

"He's right, you know," Molly adds, setting her dishes on the counter as well. "How long did the last boyfriend last? Three weeks?"

"Molly!" Lexie glares at her sister, her dark eyes questioning. _Whose side are you on, anyway?_

"Kidding, Lex," she smiles a second later. She takes her sister hand, leading them back to the living room. "Come on, sit down and have a nice afternoon with your family." She grins over her shoulder. "We can discuss wedding plans!"

Lexie follows along behind her younger sister, yet again feeling that hidden, elusive smile sprout on her face without warning. One of her hands comes up to touch her cheek, as if to check that the expression really was there. When her eyes focus again, she catches Mark's eye just as they're taking their seats in the living room. He's smiling back, and for the first time in a long time, she sees true happiness in his warmed blue eyes.

.

"Oh, jeez," Molly notes a couple hours later, glancing down at her watch, "Lex, it's almost five!" She casts an apologetic look at the couple on the couch across from her. "I'm sorry! We've been taking up all your time—"

"Don't worry about it," Lexie cuts in immediately, waving her sister's worries away. "You haven't been taking up any of my time. Actually, it's been really great to see you so much." She smiles again now, and the gesture doesn't feel as foreign as it did earlier in the day. She gets to her feet as her sister does; Mark and Thatcher follow suit. "I feel like I haven't seen you and Dad in forever, so this afternoon was really nice."

"Well," Molly smiles, heading for the door, "you'll be seeing a lot more of me once we get all these wedding preparations under way."

Lexie can't help but grin, remembering how her sister had gushed over potential dress, cake, and location ideas over the past two hours… And how Lexie had been just as excited as her sister at the prospect. "Sounds like a plan," she agrees happily.

"I'm holding you to it, Grey," Molly calls, hefting her purse on her shoulder and reaching for the door. She has half a foot out of it when Thatcher Grey's uncertain voice stops them all in their tracks.

"On the phone…" He reaches up, scratching his head and trying to remember. "Lexie, you said there was something else you wanted to tell us, didn't you?"

Lexie feels her throat run dry. She hadn't even thought of it. _Of him._ In four consecutive hours, she had not spared one thought for the baby she'd lost. In some dark corner of her mind, a voice wonders if that's a record. The inquiry gets stamped out quickly as the memories start to flood in.

She can feel Mark's eyes on her face, see her father's confused expression, and sense her sister's curiosity. "I…" She swallows thickly, but the lump rising in her throat only becomes more entrenched, blocking her voice. She can barely speak.

Lexie takes a breath, marshaling her thoughts. She can feel Mark's steady, worried gaze trained on her face. He's waiting just like they're waiting, on edge and desperate to know what she's going to say. _Dad, Molly, something happened a few months ago…_ "**No**!" The word escapes her in a burst of sound; surprising the entire party and causing several of them, including Lexie, to jump in place. "It's—It's nothing," she covers a second later, rushing to say the words as her throat constricts. "Nothing."

"You're… sure?" Molly wonders, obviously skeptical as she clings to the doorway. "When you mentioned it on the phone, you sounded like it was something serious—"

"It's nothing," Lexie interrupts. She forces a smile at both her family members before turning to her fiancé. She takes his hand, and its then that he can feel the terror in her grip. If he didn't already know what she was feeling, this would have sealed any curious thoughts. "Right, honey?" She turns her head to his; all he can see is the fakeness of her smile. "It's nothing, isn't it?"

The two seconds it takes for Mark to answer feel more like two years to Lexie. He stumbles through his agreement, eyeing her the whole time, but neither Molly nor Thatcher seems to notice that something's amiss. Molly steps forward a second later and just like that—everyone's saying goodbyes. Molly's hugging Lexie and promising to call in a couple days, Thatcher is shaking Mark's limp hand firmly, and before either of them really know what's happened, Mark and Lexie are alone in their apartment again.

.

It takes her two full minutes to find the breath, and then the words, to speak.

"I… I couldn't tell them," she whispers finally, as if her actions needed to be explained. Her voice floats over to him from the other side of her turned back as she faces the closed door. "I knew what would happened once I said it, and I—I couldn't listen to their apologies or—or see that pity on their faces. I just _couldn't, _Mark. Not from my family."

She turns towards him after she speaks, and he closes his eyes in sadness when he sees how red hers have become.

"M—Molly wouldn't understand," she whispers, her voice cracking. "She had trouble with Laura—but she never lost her. She barely came close. She doesn't know what it's like. And my Dad…" Lexie's voice is choked off in a weak moan. "Oh, god, I can't even think about telling him."

Mark takes in all her words in silence. Eventually, after a minute or two, he sighs softly, opening his eyes. "What I said before still holds true," he tells her quietly. His serious blue eyes find hers. "We need to tell them."

"Not toady," Lexie whispers in anguish. "_Please_, Mark, I—"

He shakes his head. "Not today," he agrees. He watches her deflate in relief. "But Lex…" He trails off, waiting until he has her full attention. It doesn't take long. When he does, he takes a step towards her. Without even thinking, she reaches out for him, grasping his hands in hers. "Before the wedding, okay?" He whispers. "I—" She watches him swallow roughly. "I can't go into this with you by lying to your family about something so important. I'm not saying I want to back out," he assures her immediately, "I'm not saying I want to postpone…" He takes a deep breath. "All I am saying," he whispers, "is that your family needs to know. They _deserve _to know." He swallows down all the unshed emotion. "He wasn't just our son," he whispers, his words sharp and breaking. "He was your sister's nephew and your—your dad's grandson."

Lexie sucks in a sharp breath; she'd never thought of it that way. She'd never imagined how others might perceive this loss. It was always so _personal._ "I know," she replies finally, grasping his words and the need behind them. "And you're right, he's—he's theirs too. They deserve to know. And they will. We'll tell them, we will."

"Before the wedding?" Mark presses.

Lexie bites her lower lip for a second before closing her eyes and nodding. "Before the wedding," she whispers. A second later he steps closer, dropping her hands and wrapping his arms around her back. Her fingers clutch him in a close embrace, and for the hundredth time since that dark day in April, she takes refuge in his embrace. He does the same in hers.

.

_Author's Note: Slow, rough going, I know. Please leave me a review!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I hope you all like this chapter as well; it's a good deal happier than the others. It opens just a few days after the close of the last one._

_._

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Mark Sloan turns his head away from Meredith and Lexie, who are making another trip to the bar after breaking the happy news of their engagement. "Sure," he replies, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting it back down. He stares at his best friend across the table. "What's up?"

"Well, I was curious," Derek begins, folding his hands and leaning forward. He glances over his shoulder but upon seeing Lexie and Meredith preoccupied with flashing the former's ring to Joe the bartender while they order more drinks, he returns his attention to Mark. "You never had a chance to tell me... How'd you and Lexie…you know…get together?" Derek asks the question hesitantly, unsure if the inquiry would be seen as intrusive by his best friend after all that had happened.

"How'd we get together?" Mark asks, taking another sip of his beer and eyeing his friend with a small smile across the table.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Derek offers, though they both know it's an empty promise. He'll eventually weasel the truth out somehow.

"It was a almost a year ago," Mark replies, an involuntary smile lighting up his face for the first time in weeks. "In November."

"November," Derek repeats, pondering this as he leans back against the booth. "Was that before or after—"

"I promised to stay away from her?" Mark finishes with a grin. "After."

"Well, I see the great effect my words have on your actions," Derek replies with an easy humor.

"Hey, I tried," Mark replies, holding open his hands. He mimics his friend, leaning back nonchalantly against the back of the booth with a bored shrug. "It's not my fault she showed up at my hotel room door and started stripping."

Derek almost spits out his scotch. "She—_WHAT_?" He asks, staring across the table. He sees the way Mark's face is ducked down slightly, but raised enough that Derek can see the grin and sparkle in his old friend's eyes.

"I don't believe that," Derek states with immediate conviction. "Not at all. You made that up. That's a lie." He pauses. "It _is _a lie, isn't it?"

Mark cradles his drink lightly between his hands, grinning at the brown bottle before looking up and meeting his friend's eyes. "You think I'd make up the fact that she ordered me to 'teach' her every time she took off a piece of clothing?" Derek's eyes widen. "Or that, despite what you might expect of me, I tried to stop her?"

"Stop her?" Derek repeats, flabbergasted. "If Meredith did that, I wouldn't be able to think straight, let alone try to stop her!"

"Now you see what I was dealing with!" Mark replies, throwing his arms out with laughter as Derek grins.

"What did you do?" He wonders, still unable to process all this. "To stop her, what did you do?"

Mark shrugs. "Oh, you know… What you'd expect, I guess. I told her we couldn't do this, that she was Little Grey and I was, well, me." He pauses, staring seriously into Derek's eyes for a moment. "I mentioned my promise to you, as well," Mark informs the neurosurgeon, wanting to make sure he has the full story.

"And did she understand?"

Mark shrugs. "Not at the time." A smile curves up his lips a moment later. "But I don't think she was paying much attention to what I was saying."

Derek puts a hand over his eyes with a groan. "God, don't tell me you were already naked too."

Mark smirks. "No, that happened later. Not much later, though. I barely managed to keep my clothes on when hers started flying."

Derek drops his hand, shaking his head in wonder. "What in the…" He trails off, speechless for a moment. "How the hell did you get from what I would guess was a one-night stand to planning a _wedding_ together? I mean, how did that even _happen_?"

Mark can't help but smile. "Well, it required quite a bit of sneaking. Since I made that promise to you, we couldn't exactly meet up in public…"  
>"Didn't stop you from doing it in private, though, I'd guess," Derek observes over his drink.<p>

"No, it did not," Mark confirms resolutely, a smile still on his lips. "We met up at the hospital, the hotel, in—"

Derek rolls his eyes. "Everywhere and anywhere, I get it, I get it."

Mark grins. A second later, though, his smile fades. He glances down at his drink, tapping the sides of the bottle with his fingertips. He takes a slow, steadying breath. "And then… A couple weeks after we moved in together, she…" He clears his throat, still staring down at his beer as he gathers his thoughts. Even now, even after all that's happened, he can't help but smile faintly at the memory. "She couldn't even get the words out," Mark continues, almost laughing at the scene playing out in his head. He continues before the sorrow can take over. "All she did was hand me the test and it was positive and after that…" He takes a breath, finally looking up and meeting his friend's deep blue eyes. "After that, there was no going back. For either of us."

Derek stares at plastic surgeon for a long moment. Mark doesn't even bother to fidget under his friend's gaze; his mind is so far away. "You were happy?" Derek asks quietly.

The question brings Mark back to himself, and he closes his eyes briefly before answering honestly, "I've rarely been happier."

"I'm sorry," the neurosurgeon murmurs a moment later. He stares across the table, waiting until Mark meets his eyes. "You know how sorry I am, don't you? You know Meredith and I—we would do _anything_ to help you two. Anything and everything, just say the word—"

Mark nods slowly. "Yeah," he replies in a subdued voice. "I know, Derek. Thank you."

The two surgeons lapse into silence for a few minutes, both turning away from each other to gaze out to the expanse of the bar when they have nothing left to say. Mark's eyes immediately find his fiancée, zeroing in on her small frame, squeezed up next to her sister as they petition Joe for an extra shot or two at the bar. He can't stop a smile from sneaking its way up onto his lips when Meredith shouts, '_To the youngest bride of us all!_' as she clinks glasses with her younger sister, giving her a tight one-armed hug after they've downed their shots.

"I just don't believe it," Derek murmurs softly, drawing Mark's attention away from the two celebrating young women.

"Hm?" He questions, glancing over to find that his best friend was also staring at the two girls. The neurosurgeon shakes his head slowly, turning back to Mark with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I don't believe it," he states coolly. "That thing about Lexie showing up at your hotel," he elaborates a moment later, "you made it up." Mark can't help but laugh; he reaches out for his drink as he does so.

"Whatever you say, Shep," he mutters around the lip of the bottle.

"You made it up, didn't you!" Derek accuses, leaning over the table. "Lexie would never do something like that. She's too—too—"

"Young?" Mark supplies with a wry grin. "Innocent? Inexperienced? While I will agree with you that she may be young, that factor bears absolutely _no_ weight on the other two."

Derek opens and closes his mouth, frustrated into silence. Finally, after a minute of working through the kinks of the story in his mind, he speaks: "She asked you to '_teach'_ her?" He wonders again. "_Really? _She said, '_Mark, teach me'_?"

Mark can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, Shep, she really did. Ordered me to, actually, tearing off her clothes as she did so."

Derek puts his elbow on the table, pointing his index finger at his friend as if leveling a threat. "You know I'll go to my grave still only _half_-convinced of this story."

Mark shrugs. "What am I supposed to say? You want to hear her tell it too?"

A grin blooms on Derek's face, and he leans back against the booth again, relaxed. "Seeing as I'm sure she would die of embarrassment, _no,_ I won't be forcing a confession out of her."

"Embarrassment?" Mark scoffs. "Please, it was one of her proudest moments."

"Maybe between you two," Derek returns with a laugh, "but I can already imagine the spooked look she'd get on her face if I brought it up. She'd go bright red all over."

Mark grins, nodding his agreement. "She'd bolt home before you could even get all the words out."

Derek shakes his head again, mystified. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at Lexie the same way again."

Mark's eyes stare into his best friend's. "Don't look at her in _any _way, Shepherd."

Derek chuckles at the threat. "Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do, huh?" He taunts good-naturedly. "Beat me up?"

"You'd have it coming."

Derek tilts his head back and laughs. "In what way would I have it coming?"

"You'd be making eyes at my fiancée," Mark replies. "I don't think I need another reason to knock you around."

Derek cocks his eyebrows, grinning. "Tough guy, eh?"

Mark just shakes his head, laughing silently as he reaches down for his drink. He feels someone sidle up against him while he takes a sip.

"So what were you boys talking about while we were gone?" Lexie asks, propping her elbow on Mark's shoulder.

"You mean, what were we discussing while you two were over there doing shots like you're still in college?" He grins, reaching out and wrapping his arm around her waist as she leans against the booth.

Lexie smirks. "And here I thought we were done with cracks about my age…"

"After how Meredith dedicated that shot?" Derek chuckles over his drink. "I doubt it."

Lexie rolls her eyes. "So," she begins again, curving her arm around Mark's next to rest on his shoulder blades. "What _were_ you guys talking about when we left?" She glances between them. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"We—" Derek clears his throat, trying not to stare so obviously at his girlfriend's sister as she leans so nonchalantly against the booth. He looks into his drink instead, knowing meeting Mark's eyes would only be worse. "We were… Uh…"

"We were discussing teaching procedures," Mark replies, a small smirk playing on his lips as he turns his head from his best friend to his fiancée. "I'd say I have some of the best methods, wouldn't you, Lex?"

He watches with barely-contained amusement the realization dawn in her eyes as her face goes completely blank. He almost smiles at her shock; he hasn't gained the upper hand like this in a long time. Then again, he can't exactly remember the last time they teased each other, so maybe it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise. Her response, as always, is never what he expects.

"Yes, I have learned quite a lot from you in the past year or so." She's smiling sweetly down at him, and a second later, she's shooing him aside to make room as she slides in the booth next to him. Only her nails digging into his lower thigh through his jeans tell him exactly how displeased she is with him. "What about you, Derek?" She asks with a polite smile. "What's your preferred method for instruction?"

Derek stares at his soon-to-be-sister-in-law with wide, disbelieving eyes. He saw that split-second fear flicker across her face moments ago. He _knew _it was true; everything Mark has said was true. But then _this _took its place. This confident, in-control personality… No stuttering, no blinking, no gesticulating… He can't help but stare at the woman before him, wondering vaguely when it last was that she was ever a girl. "I…"

"I have more shots!" Meredith announces, unknowingly swooping in with four small glasses to save her boyfriend from what might've been one of the most awkward and uncomfortable moments of his life.

Lexie and Mark can't help but laugh when the neurosurgeon downs his share immediately, throwing his head back to get every last drop. Meredith is staring at him with alarm in her eyes when he surfaces again. He shrugs, looking away, as if either action would play it off.

"Okay…" Meredith turns to the couple across from her. "Anyone want to tell me why that just happened?"

Mark grins, turning to his fiancée. "Why don't you tell it, Lex?"

She rams her shoulder into his, a bit harder than what would have been considered playful, and exclaims, "No!" while reaching for her own shot. Meredith and Mark take thiers, and together the three toast the longevity of Mark and Lexie's impending marriage. Derek signals the bartender for another, and once she's finished hers, Meredith turns to him, demanding to know what's going on.

"If you told him what I _think_ you told him," Lexie hisses in her fiancé's ear while their friends are distracted, "then we are sleeping in separate beds from tonight until _eternity_."

Mark regards his with surprise, turning his head to look her full on in the face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Lexie."

"'_Teaching methods?_'" She hisses acidly, her nails cutting into him again. "Are you out of your _mind_?"

"He—"

She lifts her hands, putting them between her and him, palms out. "We're not doing this now."

"We're not doing _what _now?"

"We're not talking about this _here_, Mark, because there is only one way this conversation will end!"

"And how's that?" He wonders aloud.

"With me killing you!"

The plastic surgeon can't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah, right, Grey."

"Do not _push me_, Mark Sloan, I swear to God I will…"

He just grins, turning back to their friends as she trails off menacingly. "So, Mer," he begins, speaking only to screw with the other two people sitting next to him, "Derek and I were discussing teaching methods while you two were at the bar…" He shifts in his seat when he feels Lexie's nails nearly cut into his skin. "What's your favorite way to be taught? What works best?"

"_Mark_," Derek grounds out, eyeing his best friend dangerously.

"Oh, Derek, stop it," Meredith mutters, elbowing him lightly. "It's a completely normal question." She stares at him for a second, lowering her voice. "Why are you acting so weird right now?"

"I'm not—"

"You are," Meredith replies in an undertone. She leans closer to her boyfriend. "Ever since Lexie and I stepped away, you…"

Mark smiles to himself, turning to his fiancée and pressing a light kiss to her temple. He manages to wrench her hand from his leg, fit their fingers together, and hold it in his. He squeezes her hand when he kisses her again. "Please don't kill me," he murmurs in her ear. "This is too much fun to be killed for."

"It's not fun for _me_," Lexie replies stubbornly, her body cold and hard as it sits next to his. "It—"

"Guys," Meredith begins, drawing Mark and Lexie's attention away from each other. They stare at her intently, curious as to why her voice sounds so contrite. "I'm sorry," she says a moment later, "but I think we're going to have to head out early."

"Oh…" Lexie sighs.

"Head out early?" Mark repeats, a smile flickering on his lips as he eyes his best friend. "Don't tell me you're running out after just a couple hours, Derek. We still have the whole night left, you know."

From the menacing way the neurosurgeon narrows his eyes at his best friend, they both know he captured the allusion and innuendo in the other man's words. Mark's grin widens.

"You can stay. It's just one night, right?"

"I have an early surgery," he manages to reply, his eyes drilling into his friend's like daggers.

Mark nods knowingly, sobering and subtly shifting his eyes to his fiancée. "Isn't that always the case?" He can't help but smile again when he hears Lexie's muffled laughter beside him.

"Sorry," Meredith apologizes again, oblivious to their taunting. "But we really should get going." Mark and Lexie get to their feet immediately, quickly exchanging hugs with the other couple. Mark has a hard time not doubling over in laughter when his best friend tries to avoid his fiancée's open arms. He can't be completely sure, but he's almost positive she held onto that hug a good deal longer and a good deal tighter than the others. He takes her hand when she pulls away, whispering, "Nice one" in her ear. Even though she knows she's supposed to be angry with him, she can't help but look up into his eyes and smile. It's so much easier to be happy.

"You wanna head out, too?"

Lexie turns her head slowly, finding her fiancé staring at her. She feels him rub his thumb over the back of her hand, and all at once, she realizes that he thinks he's getting away with this. When he flashes her a carefree smile a second later, she _knows _he thinks he's going to get away with this. So she smiles back, squeezes his hand, and nods, letting him lead the way home as she plans her counterattack.

.

"So…"

She begins casually, leaning against their bedroom door as he heads to the bathroom, hoping to lure him into a false sense of security.

"So?" He calls back over his shoulder, rummaging around in the drawers for something.

"What did you think you were doing, Mark?"

She can't decide if she wants to kiss him or hit him when his face appears in the other doorframe, a wide smile on his face. "I was having some fun with my best friend," he replies, holding a toothbrush in his hand.

"At my expense."

He rolls his eyes, setting the toothbrush down and walking over to her. "Are we really going to go over this again?"

"_Again_?" Lexie replies. "You think we went over it _before_?" She crosses her arms angrily. "That was just the tiniest taste of what's to come, trust me."

He chuckles, already turning away. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"Just so you know," Lexie calls, "you're going to be punished for this."

Mark grins to himself, curious. "Oh, yeah?" He asks over his shoulder. "And how will you be doling that out, Little Grey?"

Lexie smirks, proud of herself for thinking of this so quickly after the fact. "Let's just say I had some special plans for our wedding night."

Mark's head shoots up so fast, he's dizzy for a second. He whirls around before he head has even begun to clear. "You—" He swallows, trying to gain his bearings at the thought. "You wouldn't have," he replies, his voice choked in disbelief.

"Well," Lexie grins smugly, proud to have gained the advantage so rapidly and so easily, "I guess you'll never find out, will you?"

"But—But—But—"

"But what, Mark?"

"You've always been so embarrassed about it!"

She tilts her head to the side. "Oh, honey…" Her voice is mocking him, he knows, though he can't seem to process it at the moment. "You really can't tell the difference between a front to save face and a the real thing?"

"W—What?"

"Oh, no," Lexie fake-laments in an indifferent tone, "but now that you've gone and spoiled everything by telling Derek, so I guess we won't be doing anything special after all."

"You—You were going to—Really?"

"I'm planning a wedding, Mark." A torturously smug grin spreads over her face. "I have to think of these things, you know."

He crosses the room in two quick strides; in a second, he's standing before her, looking earnestly into her eyes. "Just tell me what I have to do to make this all go away."

Lexie holds back a triumphant laugh. "Oh, you already did that all by yourself."

"Then tell me how I get it back!"

She shrugs. "We've got a long while until this wedding rolls around…" She smiles as she turns away. "And you're smart. I'm sure you'll think of _something_."

He reaches out for her hand before she can walk away. Lexie turns her head to look at him, surprised. "Yeah?"

"Does this mean I get a reprieve from death row?"

She can't help but smile. "I guess it does. For now." She takes a closer step towards him. "Remember, the nicer you act, the quicker you'll get off."

He stares at her with wide eyes for a split-second before bursting out laughing.

"I didn't mean it like that!" She protests when she catches on a half-second later. "I—" But giggles envelope her as well, and neither can speak for a few minutes. When their laughter finally dies away, Lexie looks up at him, her gaze warm and welcoming.

"Tonight was nice," she whispers softly, serious now. "It was really nice to go out with Meredith and Derek."

"And to receive death threats from my future wife."

Lexie can't help but smile at the title. "Well, it's your own fault for telling him, you big lummox."

He grins, wrapping his arms around her back. "If I say 'sorry' like I _really _mean it, will you kiss me instead of slipping poison into my morning coffee?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she replies, stepping closer. "I'd never poison you…" She lifts her chin, letting her lips hover just centimeters from his. His eyes are nearly closed as they stare down at her in anticipation. "Stabbing you with a knife is so much simpler." She grins when his eyes shoot open at her response; in reply, she reaches a hand behind his neck and pulls him close for a kiss.

.

_Author's Note: Thank to all you who favorite-d and story alert-ed, they were greatly appreciated… But I would love to hear your thoughts on the story! Please review, everyone!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

_Author's Note: Thank you all for the reviews; I'm glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter. This one, unfortunately, is nowhere near as happy. But the ep was pretty good, right? I know it ended badly, but at least she said it. I'm thankful it's all out there._

_FYI, you can think of the church Mark goes to look at as sort of like a smaller version of the one MerDer used for their wedding :)_

.

_September_

.

"For the tenth time, Molly," Lexie groans, shoving the white dress her sister dangles in front of her face away. "_No,_ I do _not_ like that one."

"Will you at least try it _on_, Lex?" The other woman protests impatiently. "You never know how something will look until you actually _put it on_. Same goes for stores," she continues before Lexie can even attempt to interject, "you cannot just walk into a bridal shop, get a bad feeling, and then walk out—_like you did in the last six stores._"

"Last time I checked," Lexie huffs, "this was _my _wedding, not yours." She pauses to hold her sister's gaze seriously. "Let me pick out my own wedding dress _my way_, please."

"Whatever," Molly mutters, shoving the dress back on its rack with obvious annoyance. "I didn't ask to come; you're the one who wanted me here."

"Yes, for _help_," Lexie repeats, turning back to the endless racks. "Meredith has almost zero interest in wedding planning, least of all picking out a dress. I needed _someone's _opinion."

"So I'm the second choice, am I?"  
>Lexie sighs, holding back her exasperation. "Molly," she begins calmly, turning to her younger sister, "I love you, okay? I really do. But please… for the love of <em>God, <em>let me decide on my own dress."

"Fine," Molly mumbles after a minute, looking away. "Your wedding, you pick whatever stupid dress you want," she mutters grudgingly.

Lexie can't help but smile, reaching forward to hug her sister briefly. "Love you, too, Moll."

.

"It's going to be small."

Derek Shepherd looks up from his lunch, eyeing his best friend as he swallows a bite of his turkey sandwich. "What's going to be small?"

"The wedding," Mark replies, "it's going to be small."

Derek can't help but laugh at the concentrated look on his friend's face.

"What?" Mark mutters, his eyes shooting across the table. "What's so funny?"

"Why do you look so worried about the size of your wedding?"

"_I _am not worried," Mark replies; his emphasis only makes Derek chuckle more. "But Lexie…" He frowns down at his lunch tray. "She would want a big wedding, wouldn't she?"  
>Derek shrugs. "How am I supposed to know? You're the one marrying her."<p>

"She's a _girl,_" Mark replies.

"So?"

"_So_, don't they like big weddings?"

"Ooh…" Derek shakes his head, grinning widely. "Do not go down that road, my man."

"What road?"

"Don't start generalizing girls."

"I'm not—" Mark tries to protest. Derek just raises his eyebrows. "Fine," he mutters after a second. "So maybe I am. But what does it matter?"

"It _matters_," Derek replies with a smile, "because you are marrying_ this_ girl." He rolls his eyes at his friend. "You could at least _pretend _she's special."

Mark looks affronted. "She _is _special. When did I ever say she wasn't?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe when 'She's a girl' was the extent you went to while describing her."

Mark makes a face at his best friend. "You know I didn't mean it like that, Shepherd."

"Speaking of which," Derek observes, looking around, "where is Little Grey? I haven't seen her all day…"

"She's got the day off," Mark replies through a mouthful of his lunch. "Dress shopping."  
>"Ah…" Derek nods. "I remember Meredith making up some excuse to get out of that."<p>

Mark snorts. "Yeah, real supportive your girlfriend is."

"She's supportive," Derek defends. "She's just not… You know, a girly-girl."

"And Lexie is?"

"Have you _met _your fiancée?"

"Okay, fine," Mark mutters. "Then what do girly-girls like?"

"Find a nice church," Derek instructs. "I get the feeling Lexie like a good church."

"You…" Mark can't help but shake his head. "You 'get the feeling' that my fiancée likes a 'good church'…" He trails off with a laugh. "What does that even mean? And where in the world do you come _up _with these things?"

"I grew up with four sisters," Derek replies. "Future wedding planning was a pastime in my house."

Mark's nose scrunches in discontent at the reminder. "I did not appreciate being the go-to groom, by the way."

Derek smirks. "You better start appreciating it; it'll be reality soon enough."

Mark looks down at the table, smiling to himself. "It will be, won't it?" He murmurs, thinking. _Find a nice church. _He looks up a moment later, meeting his friend's eyes. "You know," he says as he gets to his feet, "I believe I already have someplace in mind."

.

"It's perfect," Lexie whispers, her eyes roaming over her reflection in the mirror. The tight bodice, nonexistent sleeves, and flowing white fabric… She can't help but smile at her reflection, a light blush coloring her cheeks when she wonders about what Mark will think when he sees her. "Molly, this dress," she whispers a moment later, "it's… It's perfect."

"He'll love it."

Lexie catches her sister's eye in the mirror, grinning when she realizes their expressions match. She looks down, fingering the small slip of paper at the waist. "Not when he sees the price tag," she mutters, feeling herself freeze up at the exorbitant number despite what he'd told her a month ago. _I'll take care of it all._

"He's paying for it?" Molly wonders, surprised.

Lexie sighs, leaving the price along and surveying herself in the mirror again. "Almost everything."

"Ah," Molly nods. "So that's what Dad was complaining about." She grins. "Your fiancé is providing _too _much, poor you."

"I have a very sensitive sense of guilt," Lexie replies defensively.

Molly wrinkles her nose. "Gross, I do _not _want to know how often make-up sex happens in your house."

Lexie laughs. "And yet you brought it up, sister."

"Try on some others," Molly instructs with a smile. "Just so you know you're sure that this is the right choice."

Lexie nods, but doesn't step away from the mirror. "And call Meredith, would you? I'd like her to see it, to make sure it's the best."

"Always the second choice," Molly mutters under her breath, reaching for her cell as Lexie leaves to find a changing room.

"I heard that!" She calls after her sister.

"You were meant to!" Molly replies.

"Be nice when she gets here, would you?" Lexie requests from the other side of the curtain. "I don't want my sisters fighting on the day I find my perfect dress."

.

"So this is it?" Derek wonders, walking slowly up the center aisle ten minutes later.

Mark nods, already at the front of the church. "Yeah," he replies, looking around. "A patient of mine recommended it. She almost got married here, but they couldn't fit all the guests so they had to pick somewhere else."

"A patient?" Derek replies, his forehead creasing as he stares at his best friend. "Since when do you and your patients even _speak _about anything but how to prep for the next boob job, let alone find time to discuss _your _personal life?"

"Ha-ha," Mark deadpans, studying the two rows of twenty or so pews that stretch back into the back of the small church, beginning only a few feet from the altar. "I was doing a burn reconstruction on her hand, _actually_—remember that part of my job? Yeah, not as easy as it looks—and she mentioned she just got married…"

"And one thing led to another," Derek finishes with a laugh. He turns his head to grin at his best friend. "You know, if this was just a year ago, one thing leading to another would mean you having sex with that woman, not discussing wedding venues with her."

"Well, this isn't a year ago anymore, Derek."

The neurosurgeon chuckles softly, a smile on his face. "No, it certainly is not." He glances around the small church before turning to Mark. "So?" He questions. "What do you think, is this the place or not?"

"It works for me," the prospective groom replies. He casts his eye over the space again. "It'll pretty much just be Thatcher, Molly, your Mom, and people from work…" He smiles, crossing his arms. "I get the feeling we'll fit."

Derek nods slowly. "Bring her here," he says after a moment.

Mark turns his head, meeting his best friend's eyes. "Hm?"

"You should bring her here," Derek replies. "Show her around."

"There's not much to show."

"Bring her here anyway, just you two. To make sure it fits."

.

"Lexie…"

"You like it?" The brunette smiles, spinning in a slow circle in front of her sisters. "You think it works, you think it'll—"

"I think it's amazing," Meredith replies, a smile turning up her lips unconsciously. "Lex, you look _amazing_."

"See?" Molly grins. "We all agree. I told you it was great."

Lexie can't help but smile back. "I know. I know, it's perfect, it's just…" She trails off, biting her lip. She turns back around to face the mirror without another word.

Meredith glances to Molly, confused at her sister's sudden reticence.

"She's being a baby about the price," Molly replies.

Meredith almost bursts out laughing. "Lexie," she grins, stepping forward, "do you have any _idea _how long Mark's been working at the level he is now?"  
>Lexie sighs angrily. "Enough about our ages, Mer."<br>"No, I meant…" Meredith meets her sister's eyes in the mirror with a warm smile. "Lexie, he makes literally _millions_ of dollars a year. A wedding dress will not set him back in the _least_."

"It's expensive," Lexie excuses, looking away. "And—"

"And so what?" Meredith cuts in. "Let the dress be expensive. Let the cake be expensive, let the invitations be expensive… Give him this outlet to show he _cares_, Lexie. Let him spend money on you."

"He has plenty of other ways to show me how he cares," Lexie replies. "And besides, he doesn't have to _show_ me anything, I already _know _how he feels. I know he cares."

"Yes," Meredith replies patiently, "but this way, _everyone _can see. This way, _everyone _knows."

Lexie takes a moment to see things from her sister's perspective… And she can't help but smile when she does. "You think so?" She whispers.

Meredith smiles back, touching her sister's elbow lightly. "I know so. Let him do this for you."

"The guy loves you, Lex," Molly chimes in, "let him throw away as much money as he feels like when it comes to you."

"Fine, fine," Lexie mutters eventually, finally giving up with a grin on her face. "Help me out of this dress already so I can waste an obscene amount of my fiancé's money on it."

"Just be thankful you don't look obscene _in it_," Molly teases, bumping her hip against her sister's as the three move towards the back of the store.

.

"You'll look fantastic in this," Molly grins minutes later, taking the dress off of her sister's hands as she steps out of the changing room. From the slow, deliberate steps she takes—and the momentary absence of Meredith—Lexie knows her sister is going to take this opportunity to strike up what she assumes must be an important biological-sisterly conversation.

"Now, Lex," she begins, just as seriously as the intern had expected, "I know it's early—and you're going to make fun of me for asking so soon—but have you and Mark talked about kids at all?"

Lexie Grey tries to swallow the mammoth lump rising in her throat. If she was still the same person she was a year ago, she _would _make fun of her sister. She'd laugh and tell her to slow down. She's smile. But she isn't the same person she was a year ago… And she can barely breathe at her sister's well-meaning questions. "We..."

"I know, I'm sorry," Molly apologizes quickly, a bright smile still flashing across her face, "it's early and you have a lot of other stuff to think about." She beams a moment later. "But I just want to know," she confides in her sister, "am I going to be an aunt in the future? You've been one _forever_," she complains good-naturedly.

"Molly," Lexie begins quietly. "There's… There's something I have to tell you."

"Oh, _Lexie_," she gushes immediately, her face spreading in a wide smile. "Lexie, are you _really_? Are you actually preg—"

"It's—not what you think," she manages to say, cutting off her sister as quick as she can. _Are you actually preg— _She almost shudders at the half-word. She can't stand hearing it, she can't bear thinking about it, and there's a reason she's avoided the maternity floor for the last six months. Lexie takes a breath, pausing for as long a moment as she can stand before forcing herself to speak. She takes in her sister's face, watching the near-euphoric joy fade before it has a chance to bloom and witnessing her bright smile dim and fall away.

"L… Lex?" Molly prompts quietly.

"I..." The intern swallows, getting ready to speak, getting ready to do the thing she's spent the last two months dreading. "Back in January, I—I found out I was pregnant..." She looks away, trying not to take notice of how her sister's hand flies to her mouth and her eyes immediately widen in disbelief and fill with sorrow. "It—It was a boy," she manages to whisper. "We—We named him and everything, M—Michae…" She takes a breath, trying to forget. "We were about to tell Meredith and her boyfriend Derek, but then I..." She closes her eyes, hearing her fiancé's voice in her head. _Don't use 'I.' It's not your fault, Lex. You aren't to blame._ "We… _We_ lost him," she whispers.

"Oh, _Lexie_," Molly whispers through her hands. "_Lexie_, honey…"

"In—In April," she continues, not ready to stop yet. "April eleventh." She feels her insides grow cold as she recalls the date. "Tom—Tomorrow," she manages through numb lips. "Tomorrow… _Oh_, _god,_ tomorrow would've been his due date."

"_Lexie_," Molly chokes out, her voice strangling the word. "L—"

"I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Lexie manages to whisper, trying to finish what she started despite her own realization. "Mark and I, we agreed. We agreed we would tell you after we broke the news of the engagement…" She trails off, quietly realizing how long it's been—two months, now—since she and Mark announced their impending marriage. _Marriage, _she thinks. _Wedding. _It all feels so much less important than it did a second ago. _Tomorrow_. "But…" She manages through numb lips. "But I just couldn't." She breaks off, her eyes finding her sister's as she comes back to herself. Their brown depths look tortured by sorrow to the younger Grey. "I just couldn't, Moll," she whispers. "With you and Dad right there, staring at us, staring at me..." She heaves a breath. "Mark wanted me to, he made me promise to tell you both before the wedding…" She sighs quietly, "so I guess I'm telling you." She offers her sister the weakest of smiles. "To answer your question," she mumbles sadly, "I suppose you are an aunt after all, Moll. Technically." She bites down hard on her lower lip. "Just not in the way any of us would have liked."

Molly Grey only hesitates for one second. "Lexie—" she begins.

But the brunette holds up a hand, silencing her. "Please don't," she whispers. "I just—I'm gonna go home."

"No, Lexie, wait," Molly calls, grabbing her sister's hand as she heads towards the front of the store for a quick escape. "Lexie—"

"_NO_." Her voice is almost as scarring as the violent way she rips her arm out of her sister's grasp.

"Lexie," Molly whispers, her eyes growing wide with numbed sorrow. "Lexie, please…"

"No," she cuts in again. "No, don't—I can't talk to you about this. I can't talk to anyone—I—" She buries her face in her hands a second later. "Oh, god," she moans. "Dad. I still have to tell Dad."

"I'll tell Dad," Molly says immediately.

"Oh, Moll—" Lexie's voice is choked in relief as it emerges from between her hands. "Molly—"

"I'll tell Dad," she repeats with conviction. "Don't worry about it for a second, Lexie. I'll tell him. And I won't let him bring it up unless you're ready. I'll tell him not to say a word unless you want to hear it."

"Molly…" Lexie swallows, already feeling the guilt and shame flooding her body for shoving her sister away when she was only trying to help.

"It's okay." She takes a tentative step towards her sister. "Lexie, it's okay."

"I know," the brunette forces herself to say. "I know, I just—"

"Okay," Meredith calls with a smile, walking back towards the other two women. She gestures to the cashier. "Margie here said she'd be happy to hold the dress until Mark comes. She won't let him see it, either," she adds with a chuckle. Her laugher fades quickly when she takes in the look on the faces of the two people standing before her. "What happened?" Meredith whispers, rushing closer when she sees the tears on her sister's face. She grabs Lexie's arm. "Lexie, what happened?"

"Nothing," she manages. "It was nothing."

"_Lexie_," Molly tried to interrupt.

"It was _nothing,_" Lexie repeats forcefully, looking her biological sister in the eye. She takes the dress from Molly's numb hands and heads to the cashier. "Excuse me," she mutters, forcing her way between the two.

Molly moves to follow after her sister, but Meredith's hand on her arm stops her. "Trust me," she murmurs under her breath, "you should give her a little time."

It doesn't take Molly Grey more than two seconds to piece it all together. She glances to her sister, making sure she's on the far side of the shop—and out of earshot—before speaking. "You knew?"

Meredith nods, dropping her hand. "Yeah," she sighs, closing her eyes. "Yeah, I knew. I… I was there. When she lost him."

"Meredith," Molly whispers, her voice choking off again. "I… I…"

"She and Mark have had a…" Meredith Grey pauses, struggling for the right way to describe it while knowing that whatever she says will downplay their suffering in some way. "They've had a rough time of it," she finally settles on, knowing even that is an understatement. "A really rough time. She hasn't always spoken to me, but…" Meredith sighs quietly. "I know it's been horrifically hard on her. On both of them." She gives the other Grey a small smile before looking pointedly to their sister on the far side of the room. "Unimaginable for the rest of us, as we've seen. No one knows what to say, no one knows what to do… Lexie never lashed out like Mark used to—_that _put us on edge—but…" She sighs. "We've all learned to tread carefully when it hits."

"When it hits?" Molly wonders, not even knowing what to think anymore. "When what hits?"

Meredith only sighs. "When those days come… Those days that one of them realizes that they aren't parents, that they aren't going to be parents anytime soon…"

Molly nods, understanding. She flies through her memories, trying to analyze her sister's behavior, her soon-to-be brother-in-law's behavior… Trying to see the subtle hints she didn't pick up on… "L—Lash out?" Molly manages after a second, her mind still running. "What do you mean, he used to lash out?" Her eyes widen in shock and fear. "Not—Not at—"

Meredith shakes her head quickly. "No. No, it was never at her. It was never physical. They aren't—" She shakes her head again, leveling the young woman with her serious eyes. "He isn't like that," she tells the youngest Grey. "He's never been like that. That isn't who he is."

"No, I know," Molly replies. She sighs, shutting her eyes for a second. "I'm sorry," she mutters, ashamed. "I know he's not. It's just—this is a lot to process. And that was just my first thought when you said that."

"I know," Meredith agrees. "Sorry," she adds a moment later, "'last out' wasn't the right term. He just… In those early days, he couldn't deal with it. She couldn't, either, of course, but she wasn't the one pulling full shifts at work or seeing a new patient just an hour after losing his son."

"What?" Molly breathes.

Meredith takes a slow breath, glancing over her shoulder again to check that Lexie's nowhere near. "He went through a phase where he tried to act like it didn't happen or… or that it didn't matter. They've been okay—as okay as they can manage—for the past couple months." A smile flickers on her lips. "I think it was him proposing, actually, that brought them back to reality. When she told me they were getting married… It was the first time I'd seen her smile while knowing that she wasn't holding anything back. She wasn't trying not to cry, she wasn't trying not to scream… She just smiled, and I knew… She and he both looked so happy, I knew… I knew that they'd put it in the past." Meredith grimaces slightly. "I'm sure having to tell you, though, brought things back. But with the wedding coming…" She forces a smile. "Well, that's the important thing to focus on, isn't it?"

"But it—" Molly swallows, her voice faltering. "But it _is _important, Meredith. Not the wedding, but—_him. _Right now, he's important. Tomorrow…" She takes a deep breath. "_Oh, god,_" she mumbles to herself. "Tomorrow was…his?" Meredith nods quickly. "His d—due date."

Meredith's eyes seem to glaze over as Molly stares at her. She gets the impression that the blonde is doing the math in her head, down to the very last second. And when Meredith finally manages to come back to reality, when she finally manages to step away, when she finally looks for the sister she's so worried about… Meredith Grey finds that she and Molly are the only customers left in the store.

.

"Hey, Lex." Mark smiles when he sees her come through the front door. "How'd the dress shopping go? Did you and Molly find any keepers?"

Lexie nods her head weakly, not trusting herself to speak. She feels her eyes prick for the third time since she ran out of that bridal shop; she knows this time, they're only seconds away from spilling over. She focuses on the smile on his face, though, and tries to will that one appear on hers.

"Well, that's great, Lex." He takes a few steps forward. "I guess I should tell you…" His smile widens; he's unable to keep it in. "I think I found a place for us to hold the wedding. I was hoping, tonight, that we could look—"

He breaks off, stunned into silence and inaction as strangled, choked sobs rip their way out of Lexie's throat without any warning. He can do nothing but stare at her in wide-eyed panic, but that doesn't stop her. She collapses against him; he barely has time to catch her and hold her close before her body goes boneless, slumping into his.

"Hey, hey, hey," Mark murmurs, staring down at his fiancée in confusion as she falls against his chest. "Lexie, sweetheart, what happened?" He bends his ear close to her, but he can't distinguish any of the tortured sounds coming out of her mouth. "If it was the—the dress or the church—" He breaks off, not having any idea what to say or what's wrong. "Baby, we don't have to get married in a church. I just thought it was a nice place, but we—We can do it wherever you want, Lex. We can have it—"

"I tawd her," Lexie cries into his chest, unable to focus on his words anymore.

"What?" Mark wonders aloud, trying to decipher her words through her blubbering sobs.  
>Lexie sniffs loudly, pulling out of his embrace. She wipes her eyes fully before looking up to meet his eyes. "I told her," Lexie repeats. "Molly. I told her about Michael."<p>

"You…"

"And—and something else. There's something else."

"Something else?" Mark manages, barely able to comprehend what she just said let alone focus on something new. _What else could there be?_

Lexie stares at her fiancé for a long minute. Eventually, she takes a deep breath. "Tomorrow…" She pauses again to breathe and muster some courage; she can't make herself look him in the eye and ruin this for him too. So she stares at her hands while she speaks, like a coward. "Tomorrow was my due date, Mark. His due date." She hears his breath catch. When she manages to lift her eyes, she meets his for only a split second before he turns away. He's made it halfway across the room before she can speak loudly enough that he'll hear her.

"Please don't walk away," she calls, her voice cracking in desperation. "Please don't walk away from me, Mark."

Mark Sloan freezes in place at her words, closing his eyes and remembering how they promised each other they wouldn't leave the room during conversations like these. He lifts one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He turns around after a few seconds, letting his hand drop, and opening his eyes.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she whispers, feeling tears pool at the bottom of her eyelids again. "I'm so sorry, Mark, I just… I just remembered, while I was telling Molly—And I couldn't—I couldn't keep it from you, I'm _sorry_—"

"No," he croaks, shaking his head vehemently. "It—It can't be. No. Not tomorrow. Not now. Not—"

"But it is," she whispers. "It is."

He's back by her side in just a few seconds, his hands cradling her tear-stained face. "I'm s—orry," he whispers hoarsely, staring into her tearful eyes with his own. "I'm so sorry, I—"

"You don't need to apologize," she interrupts weakly. She looks at him, barely able to see him through the fog of her own tears. "Why do you keep apologizing?" She reaches up, covering his hands with hers. "Baby, it's not your fault; it's no one's fault." She squeezes his fingers. "We've been over this."

"No, I know that, I…" It's so quiet in the room, she can hear the sound of him swallowing as he gathers his thoughts. "I just don't know what else to say," he whispers after a moment. "I… I forgot about our own baby's due date and I…" Tears fall from his eyes. "I haven't made things better, since—since it happened… I don't know _how_ to make things better, that much is obvious." He lets go of her face, using his hands to wipe his own roughly. "And I'm beginning to think there's _no way_ to make _any _of it better."

Lexie sniffs loudly, wiping her eyes quickly before spreading her lips in a weak smile. She steps forward, pressing her body solidly against his. Her hands reach out to pull him close for a hug. "Just stay here with me," she whispers into his shoulder. "And that'll make some things better."

"But not everything," he counters sadly.

She squeezes her eyes shut, biting her lip as more tears escape. "No," she eventually agrees, unable to argue in the face of such a clear truth. "Not everything."

.

_Author's Note: Please review! You all know how I love reviews. I will update really soon; I have the next chapter all written._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

A note to the anon "Olympia": Thank you! I'm really glad you love the story; I know it's a hard one to like, let alone love.

And a note to "angelgrl": I'm glad you find the story realistic. There will be a lot of the first story coming back into this one.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the reviews! …I regret to inform you that this chapter is also quite sad. I'm sorry about the timing with the show.

.

Mark Sloan has had enough of waiting. With a sigh, he gets to his feet and leaves the table, heading in the direction of the bathroom Lexie excused herself to use over fifteen minutes ago. His determined stride falters the moment he sets foot inside their bedroom, having found her much more quickly than expected.

But then his eyes fall to her hands, and what she's holding, and he stops dead in his tracks. It takes him a whole minute to be able to speak.

"I… I thought you put that away," Mark calls quietly, breaking the long silence. Lexie's head snaps up at his voice; her eyes fly to the figure leaning against her bedroom's doorframe. She feels her heart try to beat out of her chest like she was a child, being caught red-handed with someone she shouldn't have. But instead of trying to prove her innocence, she clutches the small box closer, protecting it and protecting itself. "Or at least that's what you told me," he murmurs after a moment, his eyes drifting to the two container on her lap.

She sighs slowly before eventually replying in a whisper, "Did you really expect that I would?" She raises her eyes to his; hers are sad and dull. He's sure they're a mirror image of his own. "You think I'd lock it away in the back of our closet and never look at it again?"

He stares at her, and ends up sighing himself when he has nothing to say. "I guess not," he whispers finally, his voice soft. He walks across the room, taking his seat beside her on the edge of the bed.

"I… I did put it away," she whispers, unable to take her eyes off the small, black-and-white photograph resting inside the box. She forces herself not to reach out and touch it. She knows she'll only be disappointed when her finger feels the smooth paper and not a baby's soft skin. Reality is always such a disappointment. "But—But with tomorrow—"

"You don't need to explain tomorrow to me," he interrupts softly, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I get it. I understand."

She looks over at him, her mouth tugging down in a small frown for trying to separate their levels of grief. "Right," she whispers apologetically. "I know you do."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs after a second. "I'm sorry I didn't remember."

"I didn't remember, either," she replies quietly.

"And I didn't mean to sound like I was accusing you when I walked in here."

"You didn't."

"You just left to go to the bathroom…"

Lexie looks down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she says, having forgotten she left him alone at the dinner table. "I—I just, the closet was open, and I—I saw it after I washed my hands… And I couldn't… I couldn't just leave…"

"I don't blame you," he murmurs, placing his hand on her knee. "I'd have done the same thing."

He nods, and they both lapse into silence.

After a time, she sighs quietly, letting her body fall to the side. His shoulder catches her head softly, and a moment later his arm wraps around her waist. She reaches out, her hand trembling, to pick up the small piece of paper. Carefully, he reaches over to support his side of the picture. He watches as her thumb moves back and forth across the paper, just barely appearing to caress the two-dimensional image. He closes his eyes when he can't watch anymore, and turning his head to hers, presses a kiss against her dark hair.

"We'll get through tomorrow," he tells her quietly, firming up his light grip on her waist. "We've gotten through days, weeks, months… We can do tomorrow."

She nods slowly, her cheek brushing against his shoulder. "Yeah," she whispers quietly. "I know." He listens to her take a slow, shaky breath. "And maybe," she adds softly, "maybe after tomorrow, I'll finally be able to leave this all behind." She wipes away a tear with a still-trembling hand. "Maybe when I don't come home with a crying baby boy in my arms tomorrow, I'll finally give up on the fantasy and come to terms with the reality of what happened to us. Maybe I'll finally accept it."

"You… have come to terms with it," Mark replies, his breathing shallow. He tries not to let himself fall apart at her words and the picture they paint. "We both have. We accepted it."

Lexie turns her head towards him, a sad smile on her face. "Have we really, though?" She whispers. "I know you still dream about him, Mark." He looks away. "And I still do, too." She closes her eyes, taking a slow breath. The scene plays out in her mind, as vibrant and real as if it were a memory. "I—I still see us together, all of us, even though I know he's—he's—"

"Gone."

Lexie opens her eyes, and just like that, the happiness from her dreams has disappeared. "Yeah," she whispers, finding his sad eyes with hers. Her chin wobbles as she forces herself to hold his gaze. "Would you hate me?" She whispers. "Would you really hate me, would you never forgive me if…if I…?"

Mark shakes his head, feeling his eyes prick at the barely-concealed meaning behind her words. His heart constricts upon hearing the terror and heartbreak in her voice. "I could never hate you," he vows. "You could never, _ever_ do anything that would make me hate you."

"B—But he was our son, Mark." _And I'm proposing we leave him behind._

Mark nods. "Only… Only for a few months, though," he replies, his voice cracking. "And if—if this is what it takes for us to—to actually heal, to get over what happened…"

"You—You want to do it, then?" She whispers, her breath catching. In awe or horror, even she can't be sure. She knows, on some level, that they are on the same side of this horrible decision. "You wanna let go? Do… Do you think we even _can_?"

He shrugs helplessly. When he blinks, tears fall down his cheeks. "I don't _want to_, no_…_ But what else can we do, Lex? If remembering him, just for two seconds like this, makes us fall apart _every time _we do it? What other choice do we have except…except to try to forget? What else can we do?"

"But… But…" Lexie lifts a hand, covering her face. She isn't so sure this is the right idea anymore. "He—He was our son, Mark."

"I know, Lex."

"He was just—" She chokes on the words. "He was just a baby." Her voice catches, and though her throat tightens painfully, she continues. "A little boy. Barely alive… Not—Not even," she corrects through sobs a moment later. "He didn't even get a chance—Not a kick or a cry or a breath—" She breaks off, moaning in realization. "Oh, _god, _Mark," she sobs, finding his fearful eyes with hers. "I never even felt him kick." Her eyes spill over, unable to hold back anymore. "Not once. Not—Not—"

"I know," he interrupts, his voice gravelly and hushed with pain. She breaks off quickly, realizing how much her words must be hurting him. Instead of continuing, she leans toward him, snuggling against his body. He wraps an arm around her back, stroking her hair gently. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

They hold each other in silence for a few minutes before Lexie speaks.

"Can we…" She pulls up out of his embrace, wiping her eyes carefully and meeting his. "Should we…" She tries to swallow the lump in her throat but it's impossible. "We should probably say good-bye, shouldn't we? If we're letting go?"

Mark nods, and Lexie stares at him, watching his eyes fill with tears again. He takes a shuddering breath, and Lexie feels her heart crack open when those tears fall out of his eyes, leaving wet stains his cheeks. "I'll go first," he whispers when he can. "If you want." They hold the picture between them, and it shakes, even in their joint grip.

"Hey, little guy," he begins a few seconds later. His voice is low and hoarse, riddled with tears and pain, but all Lexie hears is the love behind his words. Instinctively, she huddles closer to him as they stare down at the blurry picture on the worn piece of paper. "I'll—always love you, okay? It was because of you, buddy, that your Mom and I are where we are today. You're the reason we're together; you're the reason we're always going to be together. I owe all that to you, Mikey. I owe my present and my future to you. So thank you."

Lexie covers her mouth at the nickname, turning away when a sob chokes out. "He can't hear us," she protests when his hand touches her arm, silently urging her to speak. "He's—dead. No," she corrects a moment later, close to hysterics, "he's worse than dead! At least being dead implies the person lived at one time. But he never _lived_. We're talking to a photograph of someone who's never even _lived_, Mark! We—"

"Say it," he interrupts, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Say it anyway, say what you were going to say, if…if only so I can hear it."

Lexie takes a deep, shuddering breath. She closes her eyes for a brief moment before opening them. Once she does, her gaze never strays from the tiny figure, captured forever and only, in black and white.

"I… I love you, Michael," she whispers brokenly. "I know you—you never got to meet either of us. It wasn't fair. We—We both loved you so much and you never got to see that; you never got to experience that." She sighs softly. "You didn't get much of a chance in anything, really. But sometimes, I guess, that's how life works." She takes a deep breath. "I just, um, I want you to know how much you mean to me. How much I love you and how much I'll always love you. And—" She sucks in a painful breath. "Your dad's right," she whispers. "You're the reason we're together. You're the reason we're getting married. And I've… I've never been so grateful. Your existence means the world to me, no matter for how short of a time you were here. I miss you so much."

Mark takes a deep breath after she finishes speaking; he feels the need to say more. To explain. He closes his eyes, momentarily summoning his courage. "Your Mom and I…" He trails off in a whisper, only continuing after he feels his fiancée's supportive hand squeeze his hip. "We just love you too much. And we can't—with you not here, with no one to—to give our love to… We just have to learn to let go."

The room is bathed in silence for half of a minute before Lexie whispers, ever so quietly, "I'm sorry, Michael."

I doesn't take long for her to fall against him again or for him to give up trying to hold things together. They slump against each other, their shoulders clashing and their heads bent close. They don't move for hours.

.

Neither sleeps that night.

They go to bed early, they turn off the lights, they hold each other… But nothing works. Nothing helps. The reality of their loss and their decision to finally give up hits them both again and again, like never-ending waves breaking against a the rocky and damaged shore that is their minds. Their bodies feel just as battered as their heads do, though the scars are impossible to see.

It's a little after midnight when Lexie finally has enough courage to speak the words that have been on her mind for months. Though there has never been a right time—and never will be a right time now, fate has seen to that—she knows that now is the _only _time. If they're truly letting him go, now is when she has to tell him. Just like she had to say good-bye to Michael, she has to say good-bye to this reality, too.

"You would've been such a wonderful father," she whispers. Her voice is bogged down with tears, and the words scrap painfully from her lungs like nails of chalkboard, but she repeats them again and again. Mark stares at her back while she speaks, frozen in disbelief, as he listens to her voice drift over her shoulder. Her words are like a mantra, she repeats them again and again, and each time simultaneously tortures and lifts his soul, regardless of how many times he's heard it. "He would've been so lucky to have you as a dad."

"Lexie…" Her name claws its way out of his throat. "Lexie, you—"

"I… I know it hurts," she whispers, rolling over to face him. "I know it's hard to hear; hell, it's hard for me to say… But you need to know it, okay? _You need to hear it._ You…" She closes her eyes; when she opens them, he's staring right at her. "You would have been the best father to our little boy, Mark, I know it. I could see it back then, back when we had him. I just… I just wish…" She trails off, biting her lip to hold back the tears.

"I know," he murmurs when he finally finds his voice. He leans forward, kissing her slowly, softly. Their tears touch and mix. "I wish we'd gotten the chance, too." He pauses. "He would've been just as lucky to have you as a mother, too, you know." He stares into her eyes. "I—I know you were worried, Lex," he begins. "I know you thought you couldn't do it; I know you thought you weren't old enough or experienced enough… But I want you to know… I've always known you could do it. I _know_ you, and you'd—you'd have been a fantastic mother. And you'll… You'll always be his mother, Lexie. He might be gone, but that doesn't change the facts."

Lexie stares at him for minutes on end. Finally, when she can't hold it in anymore, she whispers, broken but truthful, "I _love _you."

He gives her a sad smile. "I love you too, baby."

She bites her lip hard, but after a few seconds, gives up, and doesn't try and stop the tears. Without a word, he reaches forward, pulling her flush against him. Her hands wrap around his back automatically, and for the rest of the night they lie entangled in heartbroken silence.

.

"Mark," Lexie whispers the next morning, after they've woken and put on clothes for work. It's still early—over an hour before either of their shifts start—but they couldn't lie in bed doing nothing any longer.

He turns from the dresser, meeting her eyes and looking just as tired as she feels. "Hey," he murmurs, his eyes roaming over her. "How…" He pauses, half-waiting for her to burst into tears. "How are you?"

"I'm…" He watches her chest rise and fall shallowly with a breath. "I'm okay," she settles on softly.

He nods. "Me too," he replies, even though it's clear they're both anything but.

"I, um…" She swallows, searching for something to say, something to do. _Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't. Think. _"You said you found a church?"

He stares at her for a minute, shocked to be talking about something so normal. Something so… _not _Michael.

"Yesterday?" She prompts.

"Y—Yeah," he replies quickly, welcoming the change in subject and eagerly latching onto it. "Yeah, I did. It's downtown. A small church, but—"

"Small is good," Lexie interrupts quietly.

He takes a breath, studying her nervously. "You think so?" He manages to whisper.

She nods. "Yeah." He listens to her draw a shaky breath. "I would like to see it."

He feels his heart rise in his throat. _Not today. Not now. Not—Not today. _"Lexie…"

"Show me the church," she tells him. Her voice is quiet, soft, yet he can still hear the command behind it. The need for change, for distraction, for _something new. _"Show me where we're going to get married," she continues, her voice much weaker this time. "Show me because I—I need something to hold onto, Mark. I need some way to focus today. And planning the wedding—"

He nods immediately, knowing exactly how she feels. "Let's go."

.

"So?" He finally asks after five minutes of dead silence. He looks up and down the rows of pews before focusing his attention on her face. "What do you think?"

"I—"

"You don't like it?" Mark presses before she can even get the words out.

She almost smiles at his insistence. "Mark—"

"We can find another one," he tells her, already turning to the exit. "We have weeks, months, we can find another—"

"I love it."

"You—" He blanks for a second, not having expected this. "You do? Really?"

"Yeah." She turns to him, and he feel almost blinded by the small smile on her face. "I think it's perfect, Mark."

"You…" He takes a breath. "You think we can get married here?"

She smiles, walking a few paces back to his side. "I _know _we can get married here."

"Then it's settled." He reaches back, resting his palm on her lower back. "We'll do it here." He feels a smile take place on his face at the thought, and he looks to her, ready to see that happiness on her face— "Lexie," he whispers, seeing tears swimming in her eyes. "Lexie, I…"

"You promise me," she whispers, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them tight, "you promise me we'll get through today?"

"I—" He nods. "I promise. Today and—and every day after."

"But… today," she whispers, her eyes wide and fearful and focused on the present. "We can do today, can't we?"

He closes his eyes momentarily, a small smile turning up his lips. He shuffles forward, bending his forehead to touch hers. When he opens his eyes, hers are looking right at him. "I already promised," he whispers, "so unless you'd like me to swear—"

"Swear it," she manages, her voice cracking.

He bends closer, never blinking or breaking eye contact. "I swear," he vows. "I swear to you, I promise, I guarantee—we will _survive _today."

She swallows roughly, but he can tell her fears have been assuaged for the moment. "And… And every day after?" She whispers.

He nods. "Yes. Yes, every day after."

She takes a deep, shaky breath. "I love you." She confesses the words softly, as if it was her most guarded and closely-kept secret.

He gives her a smile, staring into her eyes for a minute, before bending ever closer and touching his lips to hers as gently as possible. "I love you, too," he murmurs against her skin. "So much."

.

_Author's Note: Reviews are greatly appreciated! I believe the wedding is up next :)_

_Also! Important side note: Guys, I need to know... How many people will be pissed if I cut out the wedding scene from _You Can't Imagine_'s epilogue? It worked when I wrote that story, but back then I had no intention of writing a sequel... And it doesn't quite fit anymore in the scheme of this story. I think I'm going to have to leave it out. I hope this doesn't upset too many people, but leave me with your thoughts..._


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